Hellhounds Are Not Emo!
by Can'tRememberMyName
Summary: When Harry goes on vacation with the Dursleys to America, he will learn a skill that may be just what he needs to defeat Voldemort. Of course, because he's Harry Potter, it doesn't quite go as expected. Now, with an incessant, caring Death backing him, Harry doesn't think he will ever get a break. At least his dogfather will be proud that Harry takes after him. Animagus!Harry
1. I: Arrival

**New story! This is an animagus-based one. I have yet to see anyone give Harry this animagus form (not that there hasn't been, I haven't actually gone looking). I will probably change the title soon, but right now this is the one my head is stuck on. This will start in the summer after third year.**

 **Disclaimer: I hold no ownership over J.K. Rowling's characters or stories, or anything else recognizable.**

Harry didn't know how he got into these situations. He had just come home from his third year at Hogwarts when he was instructed to take out his _normal_ clothes from his trunk and pack them in a hand-me-down suitcase the Dursleys had on hand. He wasn't even able to sneak his wand under his aunt's watchful eyes before they shoved the trunk into the cupboard under the stairs and jammed a new heavy-duty lock on the door. Supposedly his Uncle Vernon was getting a month long, all-expense paid trip to go to the states as long as he went to promote Grunnings with some potential business partners. Vernon's boss knew about Harry, so he already paid for his expenditure, as well.

Harry was still in shock. He didn't know if he wanted to go to the States or not. On one hand, he could actually do something this summer, on the other, he was forced to spend even more time in the presence of the _Dursleys_.

It wasn't like he was given much of a choice in the matter, though. Maybe he could sneak away for the entirety of the trip. _Yeah right._ His uncle would more than likely keep a close watch on him to make sure nothing _freakish_ happened around him and nothing good would happen to Harry.

Harry also wasn't a big fan of the plane ride itself, either. While the Dursleys were in first class, he was stuck with a whiny prat behind him kicking his seat because the kid was _bored, and when are we going to get off the plane? I want to go home!_ Harry, while wanting to rip into the kid for the hours of torture, agreed with the sentiment. He wanted off this plane _now_ and he wanted to be back _home_ , at _Hogwarts._ He had to send Hedwig off to Ron's. Turns out planes won't carry owls, and he wouldn't want her to be miserable anyway what with the long flight. While he thought her flight skills were amazing, Harry didn't trust the Atlantic Ocean to have rest stops in between Europe and North America.

Turns out, time doesn't fly when you do.

After a few more hours of snot-nosed kids and simpering mothers – wasn't Harry flying economy class so that he wouldn't be in any Dursley-ish presence? – the plane finally landed. Harry was almost tempted to leap to the ground and kiss the tarmac while muttering _sweet, sweet Earth._ He never thought flight, especially when there are _flying brooms_ in existence, could be so torturous.

Harry followed the crowd inside to the baggage claim. His bag, luckily, was extremely easy to spot. It seemed like his was the only one with black duct tape holding it together. He thought the Dursleys might have some issues, though. They had just gotten new, normal black suitcases. The only issue with a _normal_ suitcase was that it blended in with every other _normal_ suitcase. And with his uncle's temper, Harry imagined their vacation would not start out as smoothly as they had hoped. Harry could almost picture his uncle's puce face as airport security dragged him out as someone else accidentally grabbed his luggage, leading to his uncle not having any of his homely comforts and buying everything new from the stupid Yanks. While his uncle loved having an out-of-country vacation, Harry knew he held no real tolerance towards anyone not a Brit.

Harry sat down in one of the handy, uncomfortable, plastic, hardback chairs the airport so kindly provided for those who had to wait for family to get their baggage. He watched Aunt Petunia, her long neck making her tower over the mob, her disgust plain to anyone who looked up. Of course, no one did as they were all looking for _their own_ bags.

As the mob filtered out, the Dursleys finally found their bags, Uncle Vernon definitely _not_ getting thrown out by the airport security. _Well darn,_ Harry thought.

They got through customs and quickly hailed a cab. Harry noticed Dudley was a little green around the gills, most likely because he was afraid of heights. And thunder, and lightning, and turbulence. Their plane had to go near a minor thunder storm. Harry thought it was the most interesting thing to happen; then again, he had been through worse when the Dementors decided to be spectators, then participants, of a much more turbulent Quidditch game. He was kind of used to it. Dudley, obviously, was not.

California was as sunny as all the movies made it seem. Harry was interested in the beaches they passed by. The clear blue water called to the teenager who's only glimpse of the beach was when it was gloomy and stormy. The waves looked so much more inviting this go around.

They checked into the hotel, Harry and Dudley getting their own rooms, each of which had a connecting door between it and the elder Dursleys.

Harry plopped his worn travel bag on the bed. The hotel seemed to be something the Dursleys would go for. It was high in, with Egyptian cotton sheets on the bed and a telly that seemed to take up the entirety of the wall opposite the bed. The bathroom had all the little shampoos and other personal hygiene products in order, and there was even a little mint on the bed (not that Harry was even remotely tempted to eat it).

Harry hopped on the bed. Another upside to this trip: He wouldn't have to sleep on the lumpy mattress in the Dursley household. Harry would even go as far to say that it was comfier than the beds in the Gryffindor dorms. Harry was tempted to just fall asleep, unfortunately, his uncle wanted them to get set up then meet up in his room to go over the rules. He knew what the rules were, though! Nothing freakish. Harry can't have any fun or get in the way of the Dursleys having fun. Vernon and Dudley get twice the amount of food than anyone else (Harry wondered if the myth that Americans overstuff their plates was true).

He knew the rules, yet Uncle Vernon still did not trust him to not be a pest. Probably because in his eyes, Harry was always a pest.

Harry entered the king-sized room from the connecting door. The Dursleys looked ready for a night on the town.

"Look, boy," his uncle started, "I don't want to see you at all on this trip. You can go wherever, do whatever, but nothing freakish can happen, you got that? Don't even think of contacting your lot while we're out. We won't give you any of our hard-earned money – you can figure out yourself how to get food and the like. No one can go in your room; I want no phone calls from whores getting pregnant on this trip. You don't have that wand of yours, so I don't think this should be _too much_ of an issue, but just know that you will be in _serious_ trouble when we get home. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry did his best impression of a Snape sneer. "Crystal." He was jumping on the inside. No Dursleys for an entire month?! Sure, the food issue was somewhat pressing, but if push came to shove he could always order room service and put it on the Dursleys' tab. They weren't paying the bill, so they wouldn't even look at it. They may even just think that it's Dudley's food.

When Harry left the hotel to explore, he realized one major issue. He had no money. He couldn't buy a bus ticket, lunch was soon, and he couldn't even buy a map to know where he was going!

"Crap."

 **I hope you enjoyed this. I'm honestly not very confident in my writing yet. I will write the beginning chapters, then decide I don't like them and redo the entire story. Because of this, updates will be sporadic, with probably more edit-based updates than content-based. Review, follow, favorite, whatever suits your fancy.**


	2. II: A Whole New World

**Well, here's chapter two! Hope everyone likes it!**

 **Disclaimer: Not mine, was never mine, has never been mine, will probably never be mine. All rights reserved to JK Rowling.**

 _Chapter Two_

Harry spent all of five minutes trying to decide what to do, when he finally just decided, "Screw it." He turned to walk down the sidewalk. He had decided to just walk until he found something interesting he could do.

He found something interesting far faster than he had thought.

As he turned, he bumped into someone who had been jogging. Unfortunately, her momentum was much greater than his. Her elbow landed directly in his diaphragm.

Harry wheezed as she scrambled to get off him. _Suddenly, I'm almost certain it's true Californians always exercise._

"I am so sorry!" she exclaimed.

Harry looked up to see a stereotypical Californian girl. She was sixteen, maybe seventeen, with a dark tan, blond hair, and bright blue eyes. She helped him up, letting him lean on her as he caught his breath.

"I-it's no pro-problem."

"No, seriously, I should pay you back. Hm. How long have you been here?"

"Huh?"

"Well, it's obvious from your accent you're British. So, when did you get here?"

"I just got here."

"Good, that means the locals haven't neglected their duty! Well come on!"

With that, she dragged him off. Harry had no idea what was happening, but he couldn't get a word in edgewise. She was narrating about everything they passed. _That's a good restaurant, but be careful, a lot of people walk into the door beside it, that's the strip club slash bar's entrance. I can't tell you how many teenagers I've seen thrown out by the bouncers._

Harry was almost certain she was hyperactive, there was no other way she could _talk_ so much without breathing. Before he knew it, they were in front of a classy restaurant.

"This restaurant is just what you're looking for. It acts as an actual restaurant in the front so the no-majes don't suspect anything, but the fun stuff's in the back."

 _No-maj?_

She directed him into the building, ignoring his dilapidated appearance.

"Hey, Bernie!" she called to a server. "We've got a tourist!"

Then Harry was led past the wait area, where it seemed obvious you were supposed to _wait_ for your table. They walked into the kitchen area, through it, and into another swinging door. When the girl let go of his hand, he was faced with a giant mall. It was at least four stories, several stores circling the middle area, which extended past all the floors. There was a railing where people could look down the center space all the way to the bottom. It seemed to Harry that they were on the first floor, one floor below them, but still. _How did this get here?_ The restaurant he walked into was only one story, and definitely didn't go so far back. He walked to the edge of the railing, where he found that there were enough floors below them that he didn't want to count.

"Vertigo? If you need to see just the ground without all the levels, you could always just press one of those runes. Do you not have things like this in England?"

"Wh-where are we?"

"Smith's Magical Mall, the owner wasn't very original."

"M-magic?"

"Uh, yeah? You're magic, I know you are. Your magic is like a beacon. It's so _wild._ What? Were you expecting something different? Something more impressive after the ancient magical world Britain obviously must have? Sorry, but this area's more about progress. If you want original magics, you need to go to someplace like _Alaska_." It seemed she almost was working herself up to a tangent about…something.

"I-I don't understand. How did you know I was magical?"

"How could I not? Have you seriously never _seen_ the magic radiating off of you? It must be the most wild I've ever seen, and I regularly go to shaman ceremonies."

Harry was almost certain she had stopped speaking English the moment they walked into what Harry was just realizing was America's magical district. The girl must have seen the complete confusion on his face because she slowly tapered off. She tilted her head.

"You have no clue what's going on, do you?"

Harry almost felt like crying. "No!"

"Okay, okay, jeez. Nice to meet you, I'm Alex. I ran into you, so I decided to repay you by showing you where the magic district is. I knew you were magical because I could see your magic. This shopping district is the main one in Coastal Magic America. Any questions?"

"Ho-how could you see my magic?"

"That's the first skill we learn in school. Are you saying you've never been taught how?"

"I've never even heard of seeing magic before you brought it up."

"Well, if you don't even know how to see magic, I guess you're kinda walking in here blind. Most shops don't have signs, they use magic signatures to show people what they hold. I guess I'll have to be your guide."

Before Harry could respond, not that he knew how anyway, another voice yelled, "Hey, Alex!"

California girl – Alex – turned and waved at another girl running up to them. She seemed to have just walked out of the shop beside them. The other girl was the opposite of Alex. She had dark hair, dark eyes, and pale skin. While Alex was curvaceous, the other girl was a twig. Alex was tall, this girl was short. The only physical thing seeming to connect the two was their ages.

"Hey, Sherry! I'm showing this Brit around. Did you know that they don't teach them how to see magic over there?"

Sherry looked at her friend resignedly. "I knew you never paid attention in Social Studies, but didn't you know that? European countries are so focused on the original ways of magic they don't bother learning any more recent findings." She turned to Harry. "I'm so sorry about my friend. She probably towed you around without so much as a by your leave, right?" A pause to see Harry hesitantly nod his head, "Yeah, this is more common than you think, although normally she reserves this treatment for her friends. Why don't I bring you to my mom's shop? She should be able to explain everything to you."

They ignored Alex's "Hey! I was gonna show him around!" and walked over to the store Sherry had just walked out of. Alex had been right, there was no markings on the storefront. Harry quickly scanned the stores on their level again. It looked like every door was made of glass, with big windows covering the rest of the storefronts. It looked like a modern-day muggle mall. There was one thing strange, though. Everywhere Harry looked, he could not see into the stores. It was as if there was a constant light reflection blocking his view of what was inside. However, the shine from the glass and the white tile floors made the mall seem bright and clean. Besides the size and the amount of levels, Harry wouldn't have thought that this mall was magical at all.

Sherry's mom's store was… different. Harry actually had no clue what she was selling. There seemed to be a waiting area like at a doctor's office, a library section, an antiques collection, a coffee shop, and an area that was charted off by a thick wall of fog that Harry couldn't see through.

"Welcome to the Wild Side," Sherry said. "Here, we promote services and hold research over what us Americans know as 'wild magics.' It's a varied subject, and not too popular outside of Indian reservations, but it is an important aspect to know about. I guess you could say wild magics are the original magics. My mom should be over here."

Sherry led them through the fog bank. Harry walked out soaked. Sherry and Alex walked out dry. "Interesting," was all Sherry had to say on the matter.

This area looked like a psychiatrist's office. There was a leather recliner single-seater sofa, a large, soft couch, and a spinning chair behind an imposing oak desk. The woman sitting in the chair looked exactly like Sherry with a few more age lines.

"Hello," Sherry's mom said. "Sherry, did you forget something? You just walked out! Oh, and who's your new friend?"

"This is… uh, what's your name again?" Sherry asked him sheepishly.

"Harry, Harry Potter." Harry didn't know if he should reveal his name to them, but he honestly felt like he could trust them.

"Really? Interesting," was all the mother said, with a pointed look towards Sherry. Neither Sherry nor Alex seemed to take notice of his name. "And might I ask why you're here?"

"Well, you see Mrs. Higgindobbins, I bumped into Harry during my daily jog. To make it up to him, I decided to show him where the magic district was located. Turns out, he knows nothing!" Alex butted in.

Harry felt insulted, just because he couldn't see magic doesn't mean he doesn't know anything!

"I thought Harry might be able to use your help, Mom. I figured you could explain magical America to him better than either of us could. Besides, I met them just outside the shop, so you were the closest," Sherry explained.

"Hm, yes, well Harry, why don't you take a seat and we'll see if we can't get this all straightened out for you?"

Harry sat in the leather sofa, while the other two plopped their butts in the couch next to him. He had a strange feeling his world was about to be shaken.

 **In all honesty, I hate too much dialogue. It makes me feel like the story becomes choppy, but I needed the dialogue to move the story along and I wanted to introduce Harry to magical America while still having the confusion of little explanation. It was supposed to replicate how people used to their own cultures tend to not think to explain the little, everyday details that make up their lives. Kind of like how Hagrid doesn't know how to explain to Harry all the little nuances of the wizarding world when he's first introduced to it in the first book. How'd you think I did?**

 **Still, hate the dialogue.**

 **Oh, and the names were not planned, I just typed the first things that came to my mind. I have no clue where Higgindobbins came from. Cookies to those who know where I got the name Alex from, though (hint: Alex's physical description does not match my inspiration's physical description, still have to have some creativity).**

 **If you have any suggestions for how to make my writing better, I'd love to hear it! Review, follow, favorite, whatever suits your fancy.**


	3. III: Long-Winded Explanations

**Happy New Year! A time when all our documents that need dates that are not automatically put in must be scratched out because we all keep putting 2017! This story has lasted less than one week, yet spans over a year! Yes, I am a nerd like that.**

 **Disclaimer: I make no money from this, so how could it legally be mine in copyright purposes?**

 _Chapter 3_

Harry sighed. He had only told Mrs. Higgindobbins the basics. His name was Harry Potter, he went to Hogwarts, and he came here with his muggle relatives for summer vacation. No, he did not know anything about magical America before he came. No, he did not understand a lot of what was happening. Yes, he would like some answers. No, he did not have anywhere pressing to be.

"Well, Harry," Mrs. Higgindobbins started, "there's much to cover for you to understand what is going on. First, the basic differences of our cultures. The Brits and most European countries hate us and most of the Americas. While no-maj Americans and other countries have worked hard to be on decent terms since each country's Revolutionary war, magical America and England especially have never been on good terms. The English wizards saw those who fought against them as rebellious insects, as only commoner families bothered to try to make a name for themselves over here. Also, unlike our no-maj counterparts, magical Englishmen and Native American tribes were on friendly terms. The ones who thought of the natives as barbarians were the ones who never met them, namely those in power. They could not understand why we would work with the natives over them. They eventually decided that we were starting to go into heathenistic tendencies as well. They never bothered to find out how we have grown, and have even developed a grudge against us and all other countries that have escaped their rulings.

"That split has led to vastly different cultures. While Europeans stuck to the old ways, Americans started blending the two types of magics, the Native American and European cultures created widely varied ways of performing magic, which grew with the inclusion of African and Asian magics. Every culture does things differently, here in America, we tried to find out which was the best at what, period. Over time, we found out some magics work better for some, while other ways of magic fit better for others. Eventually, it became common practice to test a child's magic for natural tendencies, and each school would have a specialty to teach. There are a few that are so well-rounded that they are tutored at home – not that some parents don't do that anyway. The state the child lives in determines how the money goes towards tutors, which I doubt you need a lesson on right now.

"So, while Americans were vastly changing the ways we understood magic, European countries refused to teach such magics, going as far as to label many 'dark' and ban them. With Europe refusing to accept our magics, going as far as to try and arrest any delegate we send them, and the Americas and other countries refusing to give up our magics, the rift only widened. Even today, very few are willing to try to work with our counterparts. The English, we know, sell slander to convince their people not to come and try to lock up all those we send to them and even some of the younger mages who are minors and their no-maj parents had to move there for work. Meanwhile, Americans try to warn our countrymen against going across the pond, although we like to think that it's not as bad of a slander because we're right," here, Mrs. Higgindobbins seemed somewhat sheepish. "I know that that's somewhat hypocritical, but no person likes being called wrong. Also, tensions are even higher because Americans see the British as stupid for their pureblood drivel, and many British believe we are blood traitors for our strong relations with the no-majes. More than likely, when you arrived here you gained a watcher, a magician who spies on foreigners in case of threat. It's our version of secret intelligence. Do not worry, we only want to make sure our country stays safe, we will be of no threat to you if you are not to us.

"American magical culture follows more closely with our no-maj counterparts, although some argue that we are leaving our roots. Politics are much more versatile here, which makes the debate stage so much livelier. Of course, it can be interpreted that we have more problems we ourselves create to deal with here, too. No one agrees on anything, so nothing can get done.

"Also, the natural magics are completely different here, too. Many don't realize how the earth's magic can affect our own. As such, many of our magics have had to change and adapt to better fit the land. We even go so far as to relegate certain magic-rich areas so that no-majes cannot enter and we cannot alter the land. Most of the time native tribes guard these lands, as they are naturally more attuned to such magics.

"These magic-rich areas are good for learning how one's own magic interacts with the natural magics of the earth. You are familiar with the term animagus, yes? They use a combination of natural and personal magics to change into an animal form. Mages in Britain who become animagi are more in tune with the natural magics of the earth than their brethren. It's theorized that if one person has a natural affinity for such nature magics, he or she could in turn better teach things to close friends. However, in America, the natural magics are so prominent almost anyone who studies to become one can do so, it does not matter about skill or power, although to be any good at it one does need dedication, just like anything else."

"Wait," Harry interrupted, "so you're saying that while I stay here, I could become an animagus?" Harry had never told anyone, but as soon as he learned that his father and godfather were animagi, Harry had dreamt of learning the skill. Unfortunately, all the books he found in the library said that one had to have a natural talent for Transfiguration, which Harry did not.

"You are staying here for a month? That should be more than enough time, especially with your magic. However, if you study here, you must call the transformation what we call it: spiritualasis. We honor that the natives were the ones to perfect the change in this part of the world, and they called animagi spirit warriors."

"I've heard that a couple of times, now. What do you mean by 'with my magic'? And why did Alex say she could 'see' my magic."

"Hm, how do I explain this," Mrs. Higgindobbins thought for a second. "You'd have to first know how we do this before you can understand what we are looking at. In America, people are taught how to sense magic. Each person senses the magic differently. By saying that I 'see' the magic, I am saying that my sensing most closely matches the sense of sight. All three of us, Alex, Sherry, and me, are sight-based magic sensors. When we 'look' at the magic, we see colors that correlate with different kinds of magic. Sight-based sensors are the most common. Smell-based smell different scents based on types of magic, auditory-based can hear the different pitches of magical frequencies, taste-based often breath through their mouths and taste the 'spiciness' or 'sweetness' or what-have-you, and touch-based can feel the warmth and coldness of magic. There are two other types of sensing, a general-based sensor, who can use multiple types at once, and an unknown-based sensor. Unknown-bases cannot describe how they can sense magic, we say that they use a sixth-sense. It is much like how one cannot tell a blind man what red looks like. Unknown-based sensors are the rarest kind of magician. I have no personal experience with such sensors, I only know about them because the current California congressman is said to be one. Each has their strengths and weaknesses, but almost everyone on this side of the pond can do one variant of it.

"All people's magics react differently to outside stimulus. Some magics are so in tune with the body or soul that it only reacts to conscious thought. Some magics are connected, but can still move without conscious thought. Then, there is the third category: wild magic. This is how we describe a magic that is so separated from the mind that it almost has a mind of its own. It acts in tangent with the body, but it only _allows_ itself to be controlled by the host. Wild magic is also how we describe natural magics oftentimes. The reason for the same name is that a person's wild magic reacts to stimulus in much the same way as natural magic does.

"Your magic, Harry, is possibly the most dis-attached magic I have ever seen, and I specialize in wild magics. Your magic surrounds you, seeming to 'sniff' for danger much like a dog would. It surrounded my magic for a second, seeming to analyze the threat level before deciding I would be of no immediate threat before retreating back to circle around you. This is not good or bad, just surprising. Most European magicians cannot have wild magic and still function under their teachings. Some who do are labeled squibs, and must come to our country or another which allows wild magics to thrive."

Harry didn't know how to respond to that. So he was even more of a freak than he thought?

"There is something that's alarming, though. Your magic seems to have extensions. Two seem to be connected to that scar of yours. One is acting like a guardian against another. To me, your magic is a deep green, very pretty, actually. The protective magic is a black, and while it's centered in your scar, it seems to flow along the outside of your magic. Your magic has no issue with it, so I would assume that it is a blessing another bestowed on you. The one attacking your scar, the most accurate way I can put it, is a blinding white. I know that in England, you call magic 'light' and 'dark,' but that is more based on the original thoughts of light and dark over the actual meanings behind them. Never judge a book by its cover, and all that. Any other extensions do not seem to be enough to actually affect your magic significantly, and honestly, they seem to be helping it, not hindering it, so I wouldn't be bothered. And don't worry over your scar, that dark magic seems to have it covered."

Harry didn't know how to take it all in. The way this woman spoke about magic was completely foreign to Harry, yet it made perfect sense. Before he could ask anymore questions, though, his stomach decided to tell the world it hasn't been fed yet.

Mrs. Higgindobbins laughed. "Sorry, I know that might have been a bit much. You just got here, after all. Please excuse my ramblings, but when it comes to the nature of magic, I just want to rant. It doesn't help that the only people surrounding me already know all about this part of magic. Please, go eat. I'm certain my daughter and her friend would like to show you to one of their favorite food stops."

"Thank you," was all Harry managed to choke out. Did he understand everything? No. Were all his questions answered? More like he just gained more. Did he think he could repeat most of that back to her? Absolutely not! And yet, this woman patiently explained more about what she considered the basics of magic to a teenager who should have known this than any of his teachers explained the basics to an eleven-year-old new to their world! She had tried more for him than anyone else had before, and Harry couldn't help the emotional effect it had on him.

Alex and Sherry stood up. They had been patiently listening the entire time, refraining from commenting or interrupting. Harry didn't know how they did it, especially Alex. Her hyperactivity made her bounce up and down continuously once she stood up. Was she really just sitting still for who knows how long?

Harry stood to follow, before he heard Mrs. Higgindobbins one last time. "And Harry?" He turned to face her. "My practice closes at five every day. How about you come here at say…five fifteen? Every day I can help you slowly understand how it works around here. I would ask you to refrain from trying to gain spiritualasis until you know more, I saw how much that interested you. However, most teachers would rather you know how to sense at least your own magic before you attempt such a feet. When you come by, I'll make sure to help you with that, as well."

Harry almost felt like crying. How could someone be so helpful for a stranger? Even Hagrid had helped him get acclimated to the wizarding world because Dumbledore asked him to. Harry just smiled and nodded, then followed the girls through the fog.

"Oh, come on! He exclaimed when he walked out. Mrs. Higgindobbins had dried him off with a spell that acted like a blow-dryer while he was explaining how he got here, and now the fog re-soaked him!

Alex laughed while Sherry smiled and re-did the spell her mother cast on him. They beckoned him out the door, towards where he guessed the food was.

He didn't know what was to come in this new world, but he had a feeling he would like it.

 **Wow, longest chapter yet! I told myself that I wouldn't accept a chapter less than 1,000 words, but it seems like the further I go, the longer I have to write. And three updates in less than a week, that is not what I expected when I started this project. Don't expect that to last. I hope that the explanations didn't remind any of you of your science classes or anything boring like that. I also hope that this cleared up some of the confusion from the last chapter. As you can hopefully see, I'm trying to make the different cultures in the magical world as varied as in our own. Sometimes when I read fanfictions with Harry out of the country, I feel like the authors are treating the magical world more like states, territories, and provinces within one country over a world that I would think would be just as diverse as our own, with wars and rising tensions and all the other foreign policy bull. (Although some I will admit are amazing at making each country's people treat magic differently.)**

 **I think I figured out where Higgindobbins came from (its actually been bugging me). I like watching the Carol Burnett show, which has Mrs. Wiggins. Still not sure where the dobbins comes from, oh well…**

 **And you guys haven't even made any guesses as to where Alex's name comes from! Here's another hint: Disney.**

 **Also, I decided to put on each chapter when I published it (partially to help myself keep track). Chapter one: 12/29/2017, Chapter two: 12/31/17, Chapter three: 1/1/18**

 **One last thing, I need a cover image for the story. If you would like to help me, that would be awesome. I would like to take a picture from a Wikipedia webpage, but I don't think I technically have been given permission to use it (even though it's on a public sight).**

 **As always, let me know how to improve, and review, follow, favorite, whatever suits your fancy.**


	4. IV: Bloody Guts and Basilisk Tongue

**Hope everyone likes the newest chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of JK Rowling's stuff! It's hers! I'm just borrowing and tweaking – not to make any money!**

 _Chapter Four_

Harry followed after the girls. The walked to the escalators, and Alex pressed on a golden, swirly design. Harry knew it must be a rune, but it was not similar to the one he had seen in Hermione's runes textbook.

Alex clearly stated, "Food court."

The escalator glowed the same golden color as the rune. Alex almost stepped on it before Sherry yanked her arm back. Harry snickered at the sight of Alex almost landing on her butt.

"You need to wait until we all can get on!" Sherry exclaimed. "Harry doesn't know how to do this! Or did you forget that already?"

Alex had the decency to look sheepish. Sherry rolled her eyes, then turned to Harry.

"There are too many floors to walk down each one. The stairs have an enchantment on them that allows us to feel like we only moved up or down one floor while travelling past many. You just have to tell the rune sequence where you want to go and step on the stairs when they glow. If someone has to go to a different floor and they're ahead of you, make sure to wait to try to get to your floor until after the stairs stop glowing. There's a map beside each rune, but you can be vague and only state the type of magic you are looking for. Each type of magic has its own floor, so the magic won't be confused. If you ask for something that can be found on multiple floors, like say a bookshop, you will have an alert pop in front of your face – kinda looks like a futuristic hologram – asking you where exactly you would like to go. If you don't say anything you will just go down one floor. Now you can go, Alex."

Alex whooped. She hopped on the escalator, which started moving when she stepped on. Sherry stepped behind her, dragging Harry along.

 _Well, now I know why they're friends,_ Harry thought. Both girls just thought it was _okay_ to drag people around.

They were deposited in what Harry was certain was the food court. Every store was food-based. There were some common muggle stores (Five Guys, McDonalds, Domino's, Pizza Hut [although why the two pizza places were right next to each other was a mystery to Harry], Chick-fil-a, and several others) as well as obviously magical places (Cauldrons and Cakes, Bubblers', Hippogriff's, The Chinese Fireball, etc.). People mingled around in the tables outside the restaurants. Harry saw one group of friends split to go to both Hippogriff's and Domino's, then meet up at a table in the middle of both… wait, what?

Alex laughed. "In America, whoever's the fastest gets the most customers. In magical America, fast means there should be absolutely no wait time. There's a rune scheme on the entrance that alters time, so you don't have to take too long out of your busy day for lunch. Our no-maj counterparts consider themselves too busy and fast paste, but they've got nothing on us!"

Sherry led them to The Chinese Fireball. "Best Chinese food you'll find on this side of the country. It's actually authentic versus the greasy crap everywhere else seems to sell."

Harry ordered first and got the gung pow chicken, which seemed like the safest thing on the menu. Sherry ordered bloody guts (which turned out to be a meat mush with spicy red sauce) with a side of crab wantons. Alex was the strangest. She got the double entrée of dragon spleen and basilisk tongue, with a side of fried cockroaches. The girls had to explain that in America, certain dragon species and basilisks were bred for food. These dragons were not on the endangered species list. Basilisks had their eyes poked out when they were born (great for freezing potions, Sherry commented) and only grew so large before being put on the market. Their meat acted like pufferfish: it numbed the tongue (although _why_ you'd want that sensation they never said). The fried cockroaches were just because Alex had no taste buds, according to Sherry.

When Harry tried to pay, Alex stopped him. "No," she said, "this is our treat to you." As she said this, Sherry stepped in front of him to pay their bill. Harry didn't realize it happened until he turned to pay anyways, only to be dragged off to wait for their meal.

Harry loved watching them prepare the food. The warlocks had things flying over people's heads doing tricks. Some of those things were on fire. Some of those things hit the others, only to shake drunkenly, then go back to what they were doing. To Harry, it seemed that the food never sat still, even when not in use.

He and the girls talked and laughed while they ate. They had an easy comradery, similar to how Harry was with Ron, Hermione, and the twins.

"We should do this again some time," Alex said as they walked him to the hotel. Harry would have explored this new magical world, but he had eaten enough that he was ready for a nap. The girls saw him almost fall out of his seat, then laughed about food comas and how you were only supposed to get them when it was Thanksgiving.

They got him to his room, then made plans for tomorrow. They were going to take him to a magical fair that was in town. Harry couldn't wait.

But he could sleep. The girls were accurate in calling it a food coma, he didn't wake up for the rest of the day and the entirety of the night.

…

It had been fun at the fair. There were several games to play and things to see. Harry's favorite was the broomstick gymnastic exhibition.

Each participant pulled off tricks and stunts not even a seeker would be comfortable with. They dove and looped through the air like they were born for it. That was not the dangerous thing, though. Some would stop the magic on their broom, making them free-fall. Others just let go and had to be able to grab their brooms before they reached the ground. One rookie had messed up and needed to call their broom back through magic, Sherry said the spell was _accio_ , and he was lucky to be alive _._ Alex said in a real competition he should have been disqualified. One thing everyone did, though, was gymnastic tricks on their brooms. One rode theirs like a skateboard. Another did a no-hands backflip. Another did a cartwheel, and ended back on the broomstick facing backwards, only to lift himself on his hands, swing his legs up and around, and he was back facing normal.

Harry could have spent hours talking about the half-hour long show. He wanted to try some of that.

Alex and Sherry also showed him a magical ATM machine. He just pressed his hand against the machine, which would read his magical signature and connect with his bank account. The money that came out of the machine was not galleons, dollars, or pounds. Alex called them "bucks." Sherry explained that the no-maj slang term actually came about because of what the magicals' money system was.

Each "buck" was either in gold, silver, or bronze. Each was stamped thin so that the metal would act like paper money. Sherry explained that the paper money of the no-majes was easier to deal with, but the residential goblins did not want possible inflation, nor did they accept useless paper that at the end of the day a person wouldn't wipe their butts with when precious metals could be melted into other things (her words, not his). Instead of completely shutting the idea down like in Europe, though, goblins created bucks. Five bronzes to the silver and five silvers to the gold. Each buck was not the same size because of the amounts the metals actually go for. Bronze bucks were the thickest, and gold bucks were the thinnest. Much more sensible than the random numbers Europeans messed with. ("They can't complain about our Imperial system when their money system's so jacked up!" Alex commentated. "We use money every day, measurements just come with specific jobs!")

Harry noticed that a lot, American magicals using a system that makes things easier on them. It was more sensible to have ATM machines than go to the bank every time one was out of money. It was more sensible to have money values that stayed at specific intervals. It was more sensible to _not_ have a credit card, as magic was able to circumvent electrical equipment here, but internet signals became wonky. It also prevented people from using money they did not have, reducing debt issues.

Harry was now back in Mrs. Higgindobbins's room, about to learn how to sense magic.

"You first need to be able to find your magic before you can sense others. It is your magic that allows you to sense other magics," she started.

Harry learned to sense his internal magic, but he hit a roadblock when he tried to _use_ it.

Mrs. Higgindobbins thought. "Harry," she asked, "is it true European magicals use a wand for every bit of magic they do?"

Harry nodded. He had actually noticed how some people didn't have wands, but he just suspected that they were unusually powerful.

"Ah! That explains it! The crutch of a wand still has its effects on you. In America, wands are on a need-to-have basis. A person's magic has a set basis. Some people's magics are more precise than others'. It helps to have a wand, in that case. Some people with more wide-spread magic will use another foci, if one at all. The more wide-spread a person's magical base is, the less it wants to be directed into a foci. It is pointless to minimize a spell into a wand only to have to release it back out how it was. Everyone has some kind of foci, in the case they need to perform precision magics, but not everyone needs to use them regularly. It can be harmful, actually, to force a person's magic into a wand if it does not naturally want to go there.

"If a person naturally does not have a precision-base, and they are forced to learn through use of a wand, the magic can become strained. They will seem like they have weaker magic. Some people can overcome such issues, but that is only the case when a person's magic is extremely adaptive.

"Some believe that the more wide-spread a magician's magic is, the more there is, and the more powerful a magician is. That is why in Europe, those who can do wandless magic are considered extremely gifted. The only reason why that is true is because the person's magic adapted to a wand, but it can still perform as it originally intended, so it can be used to its full potential. Both magics have their advantages and disadvantages, just like everything else.

"I believe, Harry, that your magic is wide-based adaptive magic. It naturally rejects a focus, but it learned how to branch a small amount into the wand. That means that you are much more powerful than you may have thought because while your magic branches, it must stretch the magic into a thin string so that it will work with the wand. Precision-based warlocks actually _condense_ , not thin, their magic into a thin strand. That is why precision-based magicals will _always_ be better at wand-based magic than you, Harry. They are able to actually put more magic into their spell-casting. Meanwhile, you are basically choking your magic."

Harry's head spun. He _shouldn't_ use a wand. While everything in America was done differently, the fact that his magic wasn't even _supposed to use a wand_ was the thing that made Harry realize how _ineffectively_ Europeans used their abilities.

"Why don't we know this?"

"Most European magicians are precision-based. Wide-based magicians have more wild magic. Wild magics are only possible when the magic can interact with other magic, specifically in the _earth:_ natural magics. Europe just doesn't have the natural magics places like the Americas have. Very few wide-based magicians can even _use_ their magics in Europe. We believe some of the squibs in Europe are actually wide-based magicians. Wide-based is a recessive trait, so the incest popular in the higher classes actually increases the chance of there being a wide-based magician in the family. That's why purebloods have so many issues with squibs. It doesn't help that incestual relations weaken a body's ability to use and connect to magic anyway. The end result is that the pureblood elite are slowly forcing themselves to become no-majes."

"So then how could I have a wide-based magic? My mum's a muggleborn."

"She might have been a wide-based user herself, or it lied dormant in her, and now you are receiving the effects of both new blood and the recessive characteristic. The possibilities are endless."

Harry hoped for the former. It would be nice to share something with his mother besides her eyes.

"Now, let's try this one more time, but instead of trying to direct your magic _exactly_ towards me, like I think you've been doing, try just letting your magic go and find what it wants to find. Let _it_ show _you_ what it knows."

Harry breathed in, nodded, then breathed out. He could _feel_ his magic surrounding him, pulsing, searching, protecting. It was a _breathing_ thing, full of life. He could understand it perfectly, yet it made no sense. He _loved_ it. _This_ is what he wanted when he was first introduced to the magical world, even though he had no clue what to expect.

It perked at his connection. It _knew_ what he was doing. He could _feel_ the happiness of finally being acknowledged. Harry _refused_ to ignore it again.

It moved in no set pattern, yet Harry just knew that it had a purpose behind everything it did.

Then, he could experience all the magic around him. _Here,_ his magic whispered in his ear, _this is what you're looking for. This is what_ I _feel._ And what a feeling it was.

Harry couldn't explain the experience. It went _beyond_ sight, _beyond_ his senses. It just _was_. His magic danced around him, happy to give him such an experience. Harry had a strange feeling it _couldn't_ sit still. This must be the _wild_ part of the wild magic. It needed to feel _everything,_ that must be what Mrs. Higgindobbins meant when she said that the magic was wide-based. Harry knew his magic would never be happy only experiencing through a wand, but it did want to go through it just like everything else.

It wanted to experience the world as much as it could, and it wanted Harry right there with it.

There was magic in the furnishings, in the foundations of the building, in the _very air he breathed_. His magic informed him that magic back home was artificial. This was _natural._ It said that it was almost overwhelming. _We don't need this for the rest of our life, but when we leave can we still visit? Can we? Can we? Can we?_ It was a hyperactive puppy, one Harry couldn't say no to.

Mrs. Higgindobbins's magic was settled around her. Her magic wanted to let the children play before it showed itself and potentially overwhelmed the newbie. No, it didn't consider him a newbie, it considered him and his magic _kits,_ whatever that meant.

 _Okay, you've had your fun,_ it… said? _Now you need to go back to normal, kit. Dorothy wants to talk with you._

Harry sighed in resignation. His magic complained, _Does he have to?_

Harry sent his magic reassurance, and his magic responded with a _Fine_ and released him.

His senses felt overly sensitive and underwhelmingly muted when he went back to normal.

Mrs. Higgindobbins smiled at him. She asked, "Have a good time?'

Harry smiled in return. He felt almost _drunk_ from the high he just experienced.

She laughed. "Exhilarating, isn't it? Now, we need to go over some safety measures and how you should practice now that you've got it down. First, what sense?"

It took Harry a second to understand. "None," he replied. "I… I can't explain it. It just _was,_ and it was _right._ I do have a question, though. Is your name… Dorothy? And-and why did your magic call me 'kit'?"

Mrs. Higgindobbins looked surprised. "Ye-yes. What do you mean, 'call you kit'?"

"Your magic. It didn't really speak, but it… did? I can't describe it. There wasn't any words, but what it wanted me to know was just… _known._ Why? Is it-is there something wrong?"

"No, no," she waved off the idea. "I've never heard of a connection quite so strong. I don't understand how you and your magic can be so in sync, yet separated so completely. It's _amazing_. Now, lesson plans, I'll explain the kit thing later.

"You need to learn your magic and your sensing by yourself. Every person is slightly different, and it sounds like your magic would enjoy the experience of showing you what is what. Eventually, you should know how to 'blink' between normal sensing and magical. You should be able to sense things at a glimpse, but you should understand everything that you felt. More than likely, with how close your magic is, it should be almost running a constant commentary in the back of your mind when you get so far in your training. It may take days or years to get to that point, though. If you have any questions, just ask me. I will be limited, though, in how much I can tell you. I am purely a sight-based sensor, you sound like an unknown-base, but I will help as much as possible.

"You need to be careful, Harry." Harry looked up at that. "It's rather easy to go so far into your sensing that you forget to experience life through your own eyes. It's better to have as many options as possible rather than a reliance on one thing that can be taken away. In less magical environments, like Europe, if you are _too_ used to magical sensing, you will almost be walking into situations blind. For you, it would be even worse than normal. It's doubtful your magic will let you, but it's better to warn than to fix."

Harry understood. He did not gain an ability just to lose himself.

"Now, on to the fun stuff." There was an almost Dumbledore twinkle in her eye. "I know you want to achieve spiritualasis, so we'll go over that, first. If we get through this quick enough, you should be able to go to classes with my son. He's about the same age as you. Maybe Sherry should introduce you, I think you'd make wonderful friends. You're actually at just about the average age people in America start learning this skill."

Harry was surprised. He knew the Marauders became animagi around his age, but the idea that that was _normal?_

"We should probably start with common terms and etiquette that Americans grow up with. First, we achieve spiritualasis, we are spiritualists, and the animal we become is called our animal spirit. There is something similar in every part of the world, but we consider the name based on _how_ we achieve our animal forms, rather than _what_ we achieve. Animagi use minimal natural magics and focus personal magic inside oneself to transform, and they rely heavily on transformative magics – transfiguration, right? Spiritualasis is achieved when one's personal magic becomes so enriched in natural magics that the change comes completely naturally. The most efficient way to change is based on how much and what type of natural magics are in the area. Whatever method the culture of the area came up with is more than likely the best way for that area. It'd be impossible to achieve spiritualasis in the UK. There is no reason to become an animagus in America. Only if your magic has a defect should you use another method. Your magic, Harry, is healthy, so _relax_."

Harry didn't realize he was tensing at the idea of a defect until Mrs. Higgindobbins said so. He wanted to be able to become a… spiritualist before he left for England.

"Once you have completed the transformation, the transformation is the same throughout the world. Your magic makes a reserve specifically for the transformation, so you can transform anywhere else in the world. If you learned the American method of transformation, you can still transform in England when you've finalized the change. Finalization does not mean mastered! Do not get those confused! Just because you're finalized doesn't mean you're done!"

Harry nodded emphatically. When Mrs. Higgindobbins got into something, she was scary!

"Next thing on the agenda, etiquette. I don't know about Europe, but in America it's considered anywhere from rude to impolite – depending on where in America and who you're talking to – to ask a person what their animal spirit is. It's a personal question, and some people do not feel comfortable answering it. I cannot tell you exactly when you may ask, but please consider the situation, where you're at, and who you're talking to before you do so. Just think before you speak.

"One of the major reasons why a person may hold their form secret is because the magic represents the personality of the person's magic. In England, people think the transformation shows your own personality, but they do not understand that magic is a separate but connected being. Also, most animagi are closely connected enough with their magic that their form makes sense in terms of their own personality. In America, that is not always the case. The transformation is more natural when the personalities are the same, but that goes into the basic theories of how spiritualasis works.

"During the transformation, your body is turned into magical energy before being reconstructed into the animal form. People actually have two forms, a magical and a nonmagical. The forms are determined based on how the magic naturally reforms itself. If _you_ reject your magic's form, the transformation will not be successful. Without the excess magical energy that is known in America, the magic must _fight_ the body to change, even if the body is in agreeance. That is why in Europe the personalities must match; if not, it is almost impossible to do the change. It's also why a magical form cannot be achieved in Europe. There is not enough excess energy to rewire the magical systems in the body for another magical form. In America, while it is possible to achieve two forms, not all people can achieve it. They do not have enough personal magic or they cannot absorb enough to rewire themselves. The physical body is not what's important in the change, it's how the magic moves through the body.

"During a nonmagical transformation, the cells change their DNA and their placement. Any excess mass is converted into magical energy which is stored for the change back, and if there's not enough mass the body absorbs natural magic. It's not as much needed as you might think, though, although the units of magic and magical theory can be explained another time. The actual connections stay the same throughout the body, as there is no alternative ways of magic that must be included. A nonmagical animal is almost a blank slate, so it's easier for magic to decide itself how to go.

"In magical creatures, magic flows in a specific way. That is why they are considered magical creatures: magic flows through them. During a magical transformation, the body not only must be rearranged _physically_ to get the correct result, it must also be rearranged _magically. That's_ why your magic decides the transformation, not you. The more different the arrangement of magic in this form is to you, the more difficult the transformation is. Oftentimes, after the transformation into a magical form, people will gain and lose skills in their normal human forms.

"More often than not, magic tries to have similar magical and nonmagical forms. For example, if your magical form is a basilisk, your nonmagical form will be a snake of some sort. From what research tells us, your magical form _decides_ your nonmagical form _unless_ your magical form has no nonmagical equivalent."

Harry thought his head was about to explode. There are _two_ anim-spiritualasis forms?! And one is _magical?_ Not to mention all the magical theory. Harry didn't know how he'd keep up.

"Even with our excess natural magical energy, only the more powerful or wild magicians can achieve their magical forms. Less than half of magical America can achieve the transformation, but the ability is common enough nobody blinks twice at a magical form."

Mrs. Higgindobbins smiled. "I think that's all you'll be able to take today, I think. Sleep on what I've taught you tonight, then we can continue tomorrow."

"Yes, please," Harry said cheekily, "no more torture."

"Why you!" she exclaimed. "Harry?" Her tone shifted. "Do you want to come eat dinner with my family? We'd be happy to have some company. I actually forgot about telling you about the 'kit' thing while I was explaining, I figure I could tell you after dinner?"

Harry beamed, "I'd love to." He backpedaled, "Unless I'd be a burden. I don't want you to have to cook more for me."

"No, no!" she exclaimed. "I overcook anyway! It'd be great! Do you mind chicken? Oh! Do you need to contact a guardian or anything?"

"Chicken sounds fine, ma'am," Harry said. "And my relatives don't need to be contacted. They don't care."

"Well… if you're sure… Harry? Are you and your relatives – what I'm trying to say is," this was the first time Harry had seen her flustered, "are you happy with them, Harry?"

No one had ever asked if he was _happy_ with the Dursleys. They knew he wasn't, they just didn't care, or in the case of his friends, couldn't do anything about it.

"Don't worry about it, Mrs. Higgindobbins," Harry answered. He wouldn't get his hopes up, not yet.

As Harry followed her to the no-maj bus terminal, Harry knew that it was only a matter of time before she broke down his walls. And to be perfectly honest, Harry was okay with that.

 **Hey, guys! These chapters just seem to be getting longer and longer, don't they? So, is my magical theory making any sense, or am I just talking in circles? It's clear in my head, but I find that that normally means I overcomplicated things. Let me know! If I can't fit the answer in the story, I'll try to explain in the author's note.**

 **I honestly tried to fit in the 'kit' thing in this chapter, but that's not how it played out. Oh, well. If anyone wants to make a guess, be my guest.**

 **Speaking of guests, a guest reviewer mentioned Harry going to Gringotts and finding out about account related issues. I doubt I'll actually have that in my storyline. The ATM machine would prevent the need to go there for money, at least during the summer. Not to mention, it's been done to death! I don't know enough about account information or money to write about it affectively. I like how enthusiastic you are about it, but I want to try and experiment. If I do several of those things you asked, I'll probably just accidentally copy another person's story! I've read too many to** ** _not_** **be affected. I like them, but I want to try my own thing. (Please don't take this the wrong way! I love suggestions!)**

 **I don't know what I'm going to do about Dumbledore, yet, to be honest. I somewhat want him to just be a neutral background character that doesn't affect the plot overly much. I also don't know when I'll fit Sirius in, I just know that I will. I don't plan most of my story or the characters in it, I just think while typing, "Oh, that'll fit nicely!" or "what to do… what to do…" It's actually probably because of this lack of preparation that I never can seem to actually like the end results of my stories, but any time I try, the ending just doesn't work with all the middle details. So half the time, what comes on the page is as much a surprise to me as it is to you!**

 **To the other guest reviewer, the Deathly Hollows will play a prominent feature in this story, just not like how you're thinking they will. While I do agree that summoning would be cool, it doesn't fit (somehow I have** ** _that part_** **planned out…).**

 **To the final guest reviewer, I have a Wattpad account, but no stories on it. I don't have any other story-based social media accounts, sorry.**

 **Does anyone like how I tried to modernize the wizarding world? And did my explanations for things like credit cards and broomstick gymnastics make any sense? If not, or you have any questions or suggestions, please let me know. I** ** _want_** **to become a better writer (although if you just say something like 'you suck!' I cannot interpret that into a better writing ability).**

 **Also, my account's been funky lately. Sometimes I'll try to get on, and it won't let me log in. When I posted the last chapter on the first, it didn't update the timeline (though it did update the amount of chapters for some strange reason…). Also, my stories for a while were not available on the search engines for a while (don't know about now). Then, on one of my stories the account suddenly put a lot of technical computer-talk looking stuff in the front of every paragraph. These all seem to be temporary, but at least with the login it keeps happening! If anyone knows what's going on, could you explain it to me?**

 **As always, review, follow, favorite, whatever suits your fancy.**

 **Posted: 1/3/17**


	5. V: Meet the Higgindobbins

**Sorry in advance. This is not my best chapter. Probably later on, I'll go back and edit it more to my liking. Hopefully, I'm just focusing on something small, so I hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: Random person: Hey, can I buy the rights to Harry Potter?**

 **Me: I don't own the rights.**

 **RP: How about to Disney, or "Just the Way You Are" by Bruno Mars?**

 **Me: Neither are mine!**

 **RP: But they're both in the story!**

 **Me: And the story is not for profit! I own nothing!**

 _Chapter Five_

"Who's in the house tonight!" Mrs. Higgindobbins called.

"Sherry!"

"Chase!"

"Alex!"

"Mandy!"

"Your husband! Oh, and Brandon will be in later, he got held up at work!"

"Okay! Hey, I've got Harry with me! He'll be staying for dinner! Alex, are you staying for dinner?"

"No! I'll probably be leaving soon!"

Harry stared at the woman. They had just walked into a modern, two story house. As soon as Mrs. Higgindobbins called, several voices answered. The yelled conversation made Harry relook at Mrs. Higgindobbins's character. While explaining things at her work, she was professional and almost soft-spoken. Harry just learned she somewhat let loose while at home. He was not prepared for that.

On the bus ride here, he offered to help Mrs. Higgindobbins with dinner. She had laughed. "Today is my husband's day to cook. He didn't have to go to work today. More than likely, he'll already have everything done when we get home. He hates eating late."

That was also a new concept. Harry was used to only one person having the responsibility of cooking, not a shared responsibility. When he wasn't cooking for the Dursleys, Aunt Petunia always did so. Uncle Vernon could burn water, he was such a horrible cook. At the Weasleys, Mrs. Weasley was the only one allowed in the kitchen while Arthur had to work until late. At Hogwarts, house elves oversaw food preparation.

When Harry asked why they didn't use a magical mode of transportation, Mrs. Higgindobbins had to explain that American wizards hated floo travel, and she was not a travel magician. When asked what _that_ meant, she said it was the ways Americans classified magic. Wild, wide-based, and precision-based were descriptions of the magic's natural state and how it works. Charms were split into household spells and other purposes, Transfiguration and Potions were similar to how he knew them, and DADA was split into combative and defensive magics. Harry knew he was out of his element since he was introduced to magical America, but he never realized _how_ different the cultures were. Mrs. Higgindobbins smiled sympathetically at him, and told him he would learn with time. At least his relatives weren't sent to Mexico, where the language barrier would have made things even more difficult to understand.

Harry had never felt the need to study. During primary school, Harry couldn't study for the fear of doing better than Dudley. In Hogwarts, Harry found that theory never made sense or didn't help him with the actual casting. Magic was easy once he got the hang of it, and he got good grades in that category, but he constantly got failing grades on his papers.

Now, with this new world laid out to him, he just wanted to know everything. This world already gave him a gift he'd never be able to repay: communication with his magic.

Back in the household, there was a smattering of footsteps down the stairs. Harry swore he heard curses being traded, but Mrs. Higgindobbins looked like this was normal.

He heard a "Harry!" and felt himself being picked up and squeezed.

"Jeez, Alex, you saw Harry earlier today."

"I know, but isn't he just so precious?" Harry would have been indignant, but he had learned quickly that day that Alex only acted this way with those she considered close to her. His magic flickered under his consciousness, letting him know that Alex's magic was cocooning it in a similar manner. Harry didn't even know magic could hug!

Alex released him. He saw several people behind her. Sherry was staring at her friend with fondness. There were two others next to her. One a girl older than Sherry herself, and a boy who looked like he may be Harry's age. The girl had caramel hair and amber eyes. She had an athletic air to her. The boy shared Sherry's dark hair, and his blue eyes pierced behind his bangs. He looked like he was bored with everything around him. This must be Sherry's brother her mother was telling him about.

"Hello," he tried the polite route.

"Hi," the girl said, "you must be Harry. My name's Mandy."

The other boy looked to Harry. "Chase."

Before the conversation could continue, Mrs. Higgindobbins ushered them to the dining room. "Harry, this is my husband."

The gulp in response made complete sense to Harry.

The man's bulging muscles were bigger than his head! He had a buzz cut, the little hair being salt and pepper. He was well over six feet tall; most of that height, from what Harry could see, was covered in tattoos. He exuded strength, something Harry knew Uncle Vernon would kill for. Uncle Vernon was a bully like his son; this man was a warrior.

The man smiled. "Hello, Harry. It's nice to meet you. Alex has already told us so much about you. Girl doesn't know when to shut up." He smiled teasingly to the girl in question with a small wink sent her way when he heard a scoff.

 _A kind warrior_ , Harry corrected.

Harry quickly adjusted to the easy feel of the family around him. They interacted randomly, yet they were all respectful to each other. They accepted him, and he found himself… almost at home. Chase was even more soft-spoken than his mother. Mandy, Harry found, was adopted. Biologically, she was cousin to Sherry, Chase, and the yet-to-arrive Brandon on their mother's side. Her parents were in an accident when she was little, and this family was the only one she knew. Unlike Harry and his "family," she was welcomed with open arms. Mr. Higgindobbins was actually a muggle, but his brother was a wizard. His brother actually introduced the two adults. Mr. Higgindobbins worked as a personal trainer, and Mandy worked as a broomstick gymnast. "Why don't I show you the ropes sometime?" she had offered. Brandon, who still hadn't arrived, was a magical tattoo artist.

Unlike the Weasley family, which was chaos and noise, the Higgindobbins were mostly a soft-spoken bunch. They didn't like chaos, although already Harry had seen two lively debates in the thirty minutes he had been there. They were all snarky, and gave as good as they got. Even the adults got in on the action. While Harry liked the Weasley family, he found he fit in better with the Higgindobbins.

Alex left halfway through, saying her mom would worry if she didn't leave soon. She pranced over to Harry, only to give him a sloppy kiss on the cheek with a giggled "See you tomorrow." He knew she was playing with him, but Harry couldn't help the heat spreading over his face.

Surprisingly, Harry got along best with Chase. Although the other boy didn't speak much, what he did say was meaningful. Chase didn't know what he wanted to do, but he wanted to try healing magics or maybe music. He 'heard' magic, although his sensing was different than other audio-sensors. Most heard magic in pitches, Chase heard magic as actual music. Rock, classical, pop, he heard them all, he just didn't hear lyrics, so rap was out. When asked, he said Harry's magic was like a percussion solo. He would also be learning how to be a spiritualist with Harry. Harry felt himself and his magic calm around the boy.

Ever since Harry first opened himself to his magic, his magic always kept a running commentary to him. It wasn't distracting. It was calming, if Harry was honest. However, his magic was hyperactive, and it was almost like an overactive puppy, playing with whatever magic it touched. When it touched Chase's, though, it relaxed. Harry liked it as it was, but he couldn't complain with the new sensation.

The door opened. In walked a dark haired nineteen-year-old. Harry would guess this was Brandon.

His build was like his father's, although he wasn't as muscle heavy, and he seemed to have even more tattoos than his father. Brandon shared Chase and their father's striking blue eyes. He held a plastic grocery bag in his hand, which when Mr. Higgindobbins saw he groaned, "Seriously?"

Mrs. Higgindobbins looked suspiciously at her husband, "What?"

"Well, dear," he might have been muscle bound, but Harry now knew who wore the pants in their relationship, "we didn't have anything to make with the chicken except for alfredo ingredients. The only issue was, we didn't have that much, so I also…maybe made… mac-n-cheese?"

"So, you're telling me, you made _two_ pasta dishes? Why didn't you just make mac-n-cheese, then?"

Mr. Higgindobbins deer-in-the-headlights look was spot-on. "I-I don't- "

"Oh, never mind. You weren't thinking, like usual."

"Hey! You said we had chicken! I learned a long time ago that meant you wanted chicken!"

"No! That means I only knew that we had chicken!"

The children all rolled their eyes. It seemed this was normal. Harry thought it was funny.

"Okay, children, grab what you want!"

With that call, everyone went to the kitchen. Unlike in England, where people set the table before putting the food on the table, this was a buffet style, kinda. The Higgindobbins family was grabbing utensils straight from the drawers and the bowls from the cupboards. When they set those in their place, Harry hearing a "Hey, you got to sit on the corner last time!" along the way, the kids went into another cupboard that had the cups. Sherry poured water from a filter, Brandon reached in the refrigerator for a jug of tea, Chase reached in the cupboard for a can of root bear (to the calls of "Gross!" and "Why do I have a brother that likes _warm_ soda?"). The adults waited for the craziness to calm down before they went in. Never mind, these people were much crazier than the Weasleys!

Harry decided to just get water to drink, along with mac-n-cheese to eat. He wouldn't tell anyone, but this was his first time eating this particular dish.

They were all seated around the table. Most of the food had been eaten, and Mr. Higgindobbins, who got back up for seconds and thirds ("What can I say, Honey? I'm an excellent cook!"), was rubbing his stomach contentedly. There had been minimal conversation while they ate. Now, everyone was curious.

"So, Harry," Mr. Higgindobbins started, "how have you liked America so far?"

"I've enjoyed my time here."

"Hey, Harry," Brandon interrupted, "have you ever seen a magical tattoo?"

"No."

"Brandon, you better not be trying to get Harry to buy anything," Mrs. Higgindobbins warned.

"Mom, relax. I'm just curious. So, I'm gonna guess you don't know the different types you can get, right?"

"Correct," Harry was curious. Maybe he could get his own tattoo?

"Well, there's 'manipulative,' that's where the ink can shift into something else. I knew a mute who got a line of ink, which she manipulated into words so others could understand her. Then there's 'personality.' If you've seen the Disney movie _Moana,_ it's like that. The tattoo, when magic is applied, has a personality that can actually interact with a person. I actually have one of those, Candy?" A fox head popped out from under his shirt collar. "Then, there's the common ritual tattoos. They're normally runes, and they help redirect magic in certain ways. They're popular for wide-based magicians like you. They make it to where you don't have to worry about a focus, and the magic actually _likes_ being projected through them."

Harry was interested. Tattoos that could help him cast magic?

"What he's not telling you," Sherry sounded resigned, "is that magical tattoos are illegal to get without a medical condition before your magic finishes growing."

"Ah, you're no fun. Besides, I could always give him a nonmagical one that could be charmed later."

"Brandon?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Harry laughed. The by-play between these two was hilarious.

"Hey, Harry," Mandy was next to talk to him, "how would you like to see our spirit animals?"

"Sure."

Mandy whooped. Harry thought he heard Chase mutter, "Show-off," but he got up along with the rest of the family.

Harry followed them through the house to an indoor greenhouse. There was a large clearing in the center. Harry knew the house wasn't logically big enough for this. He also knew that magic was awesome.

"First, you'll see our nonmagical forms," Sherry told him.

He stood next to Chase and Mr. Higgindobbins. First to change was Mandy. Not surprising, she seemed the most excited to change. She turned into a large, fox/wolf hybrid looking creature with almost too-long legs for its body. Next was Mrs. Higgindobbins. She turned into a silver fox with harsh red eyes. Sherry turned into a black and white fox, and Brandon turned into a black, white, and red fox.

Mr. Higgindobbins told him what exactly they were. "Mandy's a maned wolf. It's not an actual wolf or a fox, but it definitely looks like one, eh? My wife's a silver fox, Sherry's a marble fox, and Brandon's a red marble fox. Hey guys," he turned his attention to the playing foxes, "you can turn into your magical forms, now."

All, excluding Mandy, grew in height. The grey of Mrs. Higgindobbins's fur became a light silver. She was the tallest of them all. Other than that, their colors stayed the same. The major difference? Each gained at least one extra tail. Mandy and Sherry had two tails, Brandon had three, and Mrs. Higgindobbins had six. Kitsunes! They were all kitsunes! Harry was in awe. According to _The Monster Book of Monsters,_ kitsunes were extremely rare, and only found in Asia.

Chase explained, "You might think we should be an Asian family for this form, but magic doesn't care where the form originates, it just has to match close enough. It's rare for a family to all have even similar forms, but we've found we don't do normal."

"Sounds like my kind of family." It slipped out, but Harry was serious. Normal wasn't even possible in his life.

The kitsunes were wrestling, with momma kitsune keeping watch. Now her magic calling him 'kit' made sense. His magic leaped up, and he could feel it jump into the fray. Mandy-kitsune played with it, nipping and jumping. Chase and his mother stared at Harry.

"What?"

"Magic normally doesn't come to the mortal plane like that. It plays in the magical plane, but it doesn't like bothering with the actual people."

"Is it bad?"

"I don't think so, it's actually pretty cool."

Mr. Higgindobbins turned to him, "You'll find that American magicals enjoy trying and seeing new things. From what I understand, English wizards have more firm-set rules. Around here, few magics are illegal or considered truly evil."

Harry looked at him. What did he mean?

"Dorothy was telling me about how you survived that curse. I think all of my children had school projects trying to figure out how you did it. The curse is actually commonly used in healing around here."

"Wh-what?"

"The curse doesn't actually _hurt_ the victim, right? I know they use it for humane deaths. Necromancy is common, as America has several ghosts and ghouls that have previously gone through Satanic rituals, which nonmagicals can easily do. What else… Torture magic is used for paralyzed victims. Everything has a chance for positive uses just as much as negative, so rules are based on the effects of magic rather than what you're using. At least, that's how my wife explained it."

All those magics he listed were against the law to cast in Britain. Harry liked the idea, though. Magic that harm can also help.

Harry sat in his hotel room in contemplation, magic dancing around him. Finally, he turned inward, focused more on his magic.

 _What do you think about this? Magic being used differently than we realized._

 _…Harry. I'm magic. I knew that. I just couldn't tell you. Are you mad?_

If there was one thing Harry knew, it was that he would _never_ blame his magic. _What do you think? You know I just found you. Why would I be mad?_

 _You're a moody human, I've found._

 _What?!_

Laughter. _Don't worry, I'll be the happy happy happy one of us two!_ It started singing. _Because you're amazing. Just the way you are!_

 _Okay, okay,_ Harry laughed. _…Thank you._ The _for staying with me_ went unsaid and unneeded. His magic was connected with him. Technically, he didn't need to have this conversation with his magic. They knew everything about each other, and they _were,_ in a way, one and the same. But they were also two. The paradox made Harry's head spin. He needed this conversation, though, for his sake of mind.

 _Harry,_ his magic laughed, _if you're talking to yourself, aren't you considered crazy?_

 _Shut up._ Although Harry would never mean it.

 **Thanks for all the positive feedback, guys! Congrats to geekymom and Nocte Furorem for getting it correct. Not just Mrs. Higgindobbins is a kitsune, though, everyone in her family is (excluding Chase, of course)!**

 **The maned wolf is a real animal. It's indigenous to South America, and it's a marsupial. Google it if you don't believe me. I like these animals, though, and I thought it would work with the parameters I already set.**

 **Now, you know everyone has a magical and nonmagical animagus (Do you know how many times I tried to put that instead of spiritualasis! Put it on myself...), and you (hopefully) can guess what Harry's magical form is. Now, here's the chapter's big question. What do you think his nonmagical form is? And be specific! If you just say 'dog' or 'wolf' or something, you won't get counted! You have to say something like 'grey wolf' or 'labrador.' Hint: it's not commonly known.**

 **If anyone has any suggestions for improvement or ideas (even if I can't use it), feel free to share them with me!**

 **Review, follow, favorite, whatever suits your fancy! And if you haven't, and you like my writing style (for some reason), check out my other full-fledged story:** _ **Children Are Beautiful Creatures**_ **!**


	6. VI: We're Going Camping!

**This is what I meant when I said earlier that updates would be sporadic (I did say that, right?). Life, at the moment, is not willing to lend much extra time for things like writing.**

 **Disclaimer: I'm innocent! You can't make me talk! I know nothing! …oh, we're not doing that? Well then, simply put, I don't own Harry Potter.**

 _Chapter Six_

Harry was excited. Within a week, he would be a spiritualist.

He, Chase, and several others would go to a week-long camp to learn the basics of spiritualasis. The camp was based in one of the 'protected areas' Mrs. Higgindobbins once mentioned. A reserve set aside for natural magics to flourish without outside interference. Several tribesmen and shaman would come from around the area to teach them. All were spiritualists with varying degrees of success. Some were naturals, others struggled, and some can barely change their own form. Brandon said this was because they wanted the greatest variety of teachers for the best results. It wouldn't do for a natural to teach someone struggling, and vice versa. The amount also helped with the sheer volume of applicants. The average for these camps was around fifty kids, although during summer break that average shot up to one hundred and above.

Speaking of Brandon, Harry had gotten close with the Higgindobbins family. Every day, he spent with at least one of the children. Sherry was always accompanied by Alex. The two were almost complete opposites, yet both knew exactly what to show Harry to get him acclimated with American wizarding culture. Most of the time, these activities included trying new foods (Which was usually accompanied by Alex's, " _cookie,_ not biscuit. Say it with me, coo-kee," or " _Why_ would you call a French fry a chip? Chips are what come in bags," or the all-time favorite, "Bangers? Didn't know this was an R rated restaurant." Harry learned how to ignore her much like Sherry did.), going to various amusement parks, going to the various stores in the mall (They still weren't even a fourth of the way through.), going to the movies, and just hanging out and talking (mostly done by Alex). Harry was thankful for the magical ATM machines, or he would have had to cave to Alex's incessive need to buy him everything much more often. Mandy and Brandon showed him around their job sites. Brandon showed him several popular tattoos that were always on display in his little shop, the booklet that showed several magic conducting tattoos, the enchanting rooms that allowed the tattoos to come to life, and Harry even got to see him work on a few customers. Mandy showed Harry the basics of broomstick gymnastics. He found that while he was good at the stunts that kept him on the broom, anything that changed that dynamic made his gracefulness go right out the window. Several of Mandy's teammates (Harry didn't realize she was on an all-girl team until that point) cooed over him whenever he did something they thought was 'adorable.' Harry swore to never go back there again.

The Higgindobbins child Harry spent the most time with, though, was Chase. They would spend hours just talking and relaxing. It was almost lazy, with several pauses in conversation just to take in the shared companionship. Chase made sure to explain things to Harry much like his mother did: completely and thoroughly. Harry didn't mind; it was a relief to get clear answers for once in his life, even if the information dump left him reeling. Chase decided to get him a notebook to write down everything he was learning. "You're likely to forget several key elements of our society. This should lessen your chances of looking like an idiot," was Chase's blunt explanation. The notebook looked sturdy, which Harry was thankful for. If he had to carry it around on all his adventures, it needed to be able to take a beating.

Speaking of Chase's mother, Harry continued going to her every day after five o' clock. She explained general things about the American wizarding world and about her own personal field of work. She told him that the mist that soaked him when he walked through was an experiment of how the wildness of his magic and others' affect the outside world. She told him that many wild, wide-based magicians would never even feel the water, yet his magic was so curious that it tried to take a sample of the mist's magic with it. Turns out, Harry's magic could connect with natural magics, but it also liked to, as Mrs. Higgindobbins put it, 'taste-test' other types, as well. It wanted to see how it could incorporate that magic into itself. The pulling of the magic, though, also pulled in all the small water droplets. Mrs. Higgindobbins theorized that his magic was so clingy and sticky-fingered because of whatever happened that night he got his scar. Harry didn't think he liked that theory.

He also learned that youths could freely use magic as long as they had adult supervision and did not reveal anything to the no-majes. The U.K. did not have jurisdiction here, so they couldn't track Harry if he did anything underage. His magic was still doing flips at the thought of free reign. He even could have swore he heard it do the classic evil laugh, although it denied it when asked.

After his meetings with Mrs. Higgindobbins, Harry rounded out his day with eating dinner with the family followed by some kind of recreational activity. Movie nights were common, as were physical training brought on by Mr. Higgindobbins. Once, they had a 'family game night,' where cards and board games constantly decorated the dining room table, threats and insults being traded back and forth among the competitors. Harry basked in the warmth of being included in a familial event. Mr. and Mrs. Higgindobbins were quickly becoming parental figures; Sherry, Mandy, and Brandon were already older siblings; and Chase was a best-friend-slash-brother Harry could be proud of. He even trusted them enough to start telling them about his personal life: his want to become an animagus slash spiritualist because of his father, his wish to actually remember his mother beyond her last moments. Brandon had a strange look in his eye as Harry was explaining his life.

He never saw the Weasleys as familial to him, he always saw himself as an outsider, and never allowed any sort of those feelings to be brought up. Ron was already swamped in successful siblings, he didn't need another one, Harry told himself. Hermione could be considered a mothering older sister, but her constant need to study sometimes made it hard to connect on that level.

Now, after all that bonding, he had to say goodbye to most of the family. Only he and Chase would make the trip, but he was hopeful he would make more friends there. Chase promised to introduce him to some of his friends, although that could backfire if they didn't click. In that case, Harry would be the odd one out. Harry decided not to dwell on that too much.

With a quick kiss on the cheek from Mrs. Higgindobbins that made Harry's face burn with both embarrassment and delight, he and Chase walked through the portal. In America, the floo network was unpopular because of the high chance of accidents and their hatred of having to banish the resulting ashes. Portals, on the other hand, analyzed where you intended to go and put you where you would not be seen by no-majes and not in the way of magicals while still being capable of transporting you practically everywhere. The main places you couldn't automatically get into were houses and other private areas (like bathrooms), as the very bricks were warded against any transportation directly inside. Portals were activated when one moved their hand through the air as if they were unzipping a bag in front of them and thinking of where they would like to go. This was accompanied by the actual sound of a zipper, and a small bit of light could be seen following the hand. When finished 'unzipping,' the light would expand into a circle. Once the circle was complete, it was as if one was looking through a window into where they were about to go. You stepped through, feeling only as if you were walking through a doorway, and 'unzipped' the portal when everything and everyone had gone through. It was simple, and there was no nausea that was the norm for magical U.K. travel. Harry was quick to learn the technique. If he never went through another floo again, it would be too soon.

The camp looked similar to any classic camp seen on the telly. There were wooden cabins with a surrounding forest and a lake nearby. It was _packed_.

Children ran around trying to find friends or their cabins. Adults were either helping guide and direct, or were just as confused as the children. The latter were probably the late bloomers Chase told him about: the ones that for some reason couldn't come when they were between the ages of thirteen and seventeen. Chase explained that first there would be a general orientation, followed by splitting up into groups sorted by age. These groups would learn the basics of the transformation. After learning what their forms were, they would be split up again to be taught how to change into their forms based on natural affinity and what kind of animal. It was easier to split marine from land-based spiritualists, and the less said on what happened the last time a cat and a dog spiritualist transformed next to each other for the first time, the better. The more adults that signed up to help, the more groups there would be.

Both Harry and Chase rolled their luggage (Harry was allowed to borrow one of the Higgindobbins' spares, and when he found out they had wheels, he almost kissed the ground the family walked on) to their cabin. Chase had the paper telling them where to go, and both he and Harry were in the same cabin.

Chase had explained that magical usage would be limited in the camp. Besides the transformation, they would be encouraged to do things the no-maj way. This was to preserve the natural magics. The food would be hand-made, and the cabins would not have any charms on them. The cabins each had a flag in front of their doors. Girls' cabins had red flags, boys' had blue, and adults' had green. Their cabin was in the middle. It was one of the smaller cabins, but it looked warm and inviting. When they walked in, they saw eight bunk beds, each of which was a twin with neutral brown sheets. At the back of the room was a door, presumably leading to a bathroom. There was already four boys in the room, and with the addition of Harry and Chase, it looked like there would only be two more joining them. All the boys looked around their age. None of them had any defining features that would make them stand out in a crowd, but they looked to be nice enough.

Soon, the other two came in and introductions were made. None of the other boys made Harry think they'd be stellar friends, but he thought he could stand staying with them for a week.

About a half hour after they arrived, the boys went to orientation. Orientation was in an area obviously meant for bonfires. There were several logs already stacked up in the middle. Surrounding the firepit on three sides were rows upon rows of logs, which were meant to be used as seats. The logs were set on an incline so those in the back could still see over the ones in the front. On the fourth side of the firepit was the lake; the sunshine reflecting on it was nearly blinding in intensity.

Harry and his cabinmates sat in the middle of the rows facing the lake. Several people had already arrived, and it looked like everyone was happy to be there. Scratch that, almost everyone was happy to be there. Off to the side in a back row were three girls. They were obviously related. One had black hair, the next had white hair, and the last had red. Besides their hair colors, they all looked the same. Their soft features stared out ahead, and they all had an air that warded off any who looked like they might have sat next to them.

Harry's attention was drawn from the girls by a clap of thunder. Lightning streaked to the ground, depositing a man in front of the firepit in the center of the three rows. He had a red leather face, and was obviously one of the tribesmen. One of the adults sitting on the side walked over to give him a microphone, with almost everyone's eyes upon him.

"Hello, everyone," his voice rang out. Harry couldn't see any speakers, but maybe the microphone had a selective _sonorous_ charm on it. (Harry only knew about that charm because Hermione showed it to him once when they were studying together.) "My, we've got a pretty good crowd here to learn. First, before you do anything else, we have some announcements.

"First, classes will be an hour long, with hour long breaks between. You are expected to arrive on time, do not expect your instructors to take time out to discuss with you what you've missed. There will also be no roll call. You are the ones who must put effort in this, and we get paid either way.

"You will meet your cabin councilors after this meeting in your cabins. They will explain how your cabin will be run. They are also the ones who decide what activities you do when you are not in class. You will go to beginning lessons with your cabin, and your cabin will determine what your schedule is.

"We want you guys to have fun, but you may not use magic here without permission. You will get one warning, that is it. Same applies for littering. Any public defacement of the area will result in an immediate fine for your family and you will be kicked out and not allowed to come back.

"Your councilors will tell you everything else you need to know. Classes will start tomorrow, and today dinner will be in an hour. Go back to your cabins, get unpacked, and bond with your cabinmates. That will be all for now." With that speech, the man was struck with lightning, and was gone. With mutterings throughout the crowd, everyone left.

Harry and his cabinmates walked through the door to find a man sitting in the room. He looked geeky, with khaki shorts and a button-collard shirt. His socks were all the way up to his knees, and his glasses seemed to be perpetually sliding off. They gathered around, figuring this was their councilor.

He introduced himself as Sam, and he told them the basics of what would happen.

Breakfast was from seven to nine, lunch was from eleven to one, and dinner was from five to seven. Classes and activities were between those times and after dinner until nine. Curfew was at ten, and they could leave the cabin at six in the morning (this announcement drew several groans). He explained the basic rules. He said that they were called the 'Black Bear Cabin' for activities. They were not required to attend anything, although they were encouraged to participate. All in all, very informative and very boring.

After dinner and a camp sing-a-long, Harry was nestled under his covers, conversing with his magic.

 _I'm excited! I know that this will be good for us!_

 _Do you know what animal we are?_ Harry asked it.

 _Nope! We have to go through the ritual, just like everyone else. It helps me reach a 'higher plane' or something. Red Chief's magic is very boomy._

 _What?_

 _Red Chief, that's the dude who was talking to you earlier. Or at least, that's what his magic calls him, but that might be a joke. Anyway, his magic decided we needed our own orientation. Something about not harming you and not messing with things that aren't ours. Something about sacred land. I wasn't paying attention._

 _Well, that's surprising._ Harry couldn't help the sarcasm. His magic was a puppy; it couldn't pay attention to anything for any length of time. He could already tell that it was starting to drift from the conversation. _Can you show me your world?_

 _Always._

Once again, Harry was immersed in his magic. The others' magics settled around themselves, readying for sleep. Harry could tell who the night owls were, their magic was still jumping and playing. Chase's magic paced on the bed, trying to get comfortable. Harry knew his friend had trouble sleeping, but it was different when he was seeing it through magic's eyes. Chase's magic looked up, rumbled something in acknowledgement (or maybe saying goodnight, or even in defeat that they couldn't get to sleep, Harry could never tell. Chase's magic was even less expressive than him.), and resettled itself down, only to jerk up and resume its pacing. Everything Harry felt, though, was only what he could equate it to. He couldn't _see_ Chase's magic pacing, he couldn't _hear_ its rumble, he couldn't _feel_ how the curious-still-awake magic was trying to understand his style of sensing. He backed out, letting his own magic explain to the confused ones.

He couldn't explain it, but it never got old.

 _Harry's Journal – Table of Contents_

Culture Differences, Extreme Basics of the Differences of Magic, Magic Sensing…page 3

The Basics of Money, Explanation of Foci, Based Magic, My Magical Sensing, Spiritualist Basics …page 4

Classification of Spells, Magical Tattoos, The True Evils of Magic…page 5

 **(This will be posted at the end of each chapter. It's a catalogue of what each chapter went over (in terms of information). Page numbers correlate with chapter numbers. This is in case you forget the details of magic in America [and it helps me remember where I put that stuff]. Hope this helps with any information dump issues.)**

 **Next chapter's when he gets his form!**

 **So, after my last chapter my follow count has gone up to the triple digits. I find that amazing, especially because I started writing on this cite to improve my writing. I didn't think people would actually like it. Hopefully, by the time I finish this story I haven't done something to it to make you all mad and you can continue to enjoy the story.**

 **Also, (I meant to put this in last chapter…) some people have mentioned that this is an idea they've never seen before. The concept of Harry going to America and getting his animagus form actually stemmed from another fanfiction I read a few years ago before I got this account (yes, this has been stewing in my head for that long). I can't find it now, but if anyone knows what story I'm writing about, I'd gladly give that author credit. I think I'm using the concept completely differently, but I would still like to acknowledge that person.**

 **Three questions for this chapter:**

 **One: I vaguely asked you guys last chapter for your ideas on what no-maj animal Harry would be. I did this partially because I was actually between two different ideas, and I wanted to know how you guys are interpreting my story. I have finally decided, and so I will give you guys two hints: Dogo and white. Do you know which canine I have decided on?**

 **Two: If you have any ideas for this story, feel free to tell me, I'm open to suggestions.**

 **Three: What makes a story qualified for AU? What changes the story from a fanfiction about the character if something new happened to a completely alternate universe?**

 **Published: 2/19/18 (Think I forgot to do that last chapter, so chapter five publish date: 1/6/18)**

 **Review, follow, favorite, whatever suits your fancy.**


	7. VII: Nightmares of Infernos

**Disclaimer: Man Behind Desk: Did you, or did you not publish content about a book without the author's permission?**

 **Me: I did nothing!**

 **MBD: Boys, take 'er in. I'm done.**

 **Me: Wait! Wait! I did! I did publish another Author's work! I didn't make money off of it, I swear! I don't own anything!**

 _Chapter Seven_

Harry awoke to a blowhorn in his ear. His quest to escape the noise plopped his butt on the floor, holding his ringing ears. Laughter abounded. "Mornin'!" one kid called.

Turns out, he slept through morning wake-up, probably because he had to ignore Ron's snoring to be able to get any sleep while in the Gryffindor dorms.

Every boy grabbed a set of clothes and a towel from their luggage and headed towards the bathhouse. The entire reason they had to awaken at six a.m. was because this was the time they signed up to use the showers. Each cabin had its own scheduled shower time. Of course, with how early it was, the sun was barely up, and almost no one else was up except for the girls' cabin that signed up for their six o' clock cleaning time. There were bathrooms in the cabins, but they only had sinks and toilets, no showers.

The camp didn't care what they wore as long as all the important bits were covered, which meant that they could literally just be wearing underwear, and no one would complain (no one ever did, though). Harry wore a pair of basketball shorts and a tank top Mandy gave him that had the words "Fly and Hide Like a Snitch" swirling around it. California was much hotter than Surrey, Harry had come to find out. He appreciated Sherry and Alex's obsessive need to cloth him and take him shopping when they forced him to do outdoor activities.

The boys stumbled out of the bathroom, hair tangled and still not completely awake. One kid even had his shirt on backwards. Anyone who noticed just snickered and muttered, "He'll figure it out."

They wandered over to the cafeteria. It was early enough for everything to be fresh, but too early for everything to be ready. Harry just grabbed a bowl of cereal and sat next to Chase. Everyone else from their cabin gathered around. There was no one else in the cafeteria; they were all still getting some shut-eye.

The two boys grunted in greeting but didn't bother to try to work their mouths open beyond shoveling food in their mouths. An overly chipper Sam the cabin councilor walked up to the boys' table.

"Good morning everyone! We have a busy day ahead of us, so make sure you eat a good breakfast!"

Clearly, he was the only morning person in their cabin.

The boys still had over an hour before lessons would begin. They spent it in the obvious way.

"This way! Come on, slowpokes!"

They decided to go exploring.

Technically, it wasn't against the rules. They were perfectly allowed to explore wherever they wanted, so long as they didn't go past the river that bordered the camp, which was over an hour's walk away. However, going through a thick forest with the sun rising at their backs and no one else awake, forcing them to whisper until they left the general area of the cabins, well, all the boys acted like they were in a secret spy mission. Even the normally reclusive and introverted Chase was in on the action.

They ducked under branches, hid suddenly behind trees, rolled over logs, tried not to step on any branches – managing to crack several in the process – and pointed finger guns at anything that stirred. Generally, they acted like doofuses.

Harry rarely had such an interaction with his friends from Hogwarts. Hermione always seemed to shoot him and Ron down when they tried, he wasn't particularly close with most of the other guys, and the teachers all seemed to have sticks up their butts when they were caught. Even when outside, the teachers' disapproval for all things fun, notably Snape's, often led to a docking of points. It was nice to be an actual kid for once. Actually, if he thought about it, being in America gave him the freedom to be a kid much more than the UK. How ironic.

Ahead of him, the guys stumbled into a clearing. He heard several gasps, which had him running ahead, forgetting the "mission."

When he reached the clearing himself, his reaction mirrored the others'.

In the magical world, it was rare to see more than one type of creature together. They tended to leave each other alone, and they often seemed to have territories. Predators often hunted mundane prey whenever possible, seeing as they were the easier food source.

The was a herd of horse-looking creatures grazing in the clearing. Occasionally, one would shake its head and flames would flicker in its mane. They did not look too similar. Some resembled normal horses, and others resembled unicorns. There were even a few that when their manes flickered, wings of flames rose from their backs.

Surrounding the horses and playing in the skies were small lizards. They looked like Norbert the dragon when he hatched. They didn't seem to care about the horses, excluding one Harry caught from the corner of his eye playing with a foal.

However, there were a few resting on what was visibly nothing. The notable impressions of hooves under them led to the conclusion that there were more creatures there than originally thought.

"Nightmares," one boy breathed.

"And an inferno of pygmy dragons. I think they're all different species, too," another whispered.

Harry hoped afterwards Chase would explain the terms to him.

Suddenly, the dragons flying in the sky started to fly in a vortex-type formation. Then the formation caught on fire.

"Woah!" All the boys were hasty to back up.

The fire tornado lasted for a few seconds, and then it dispersed, leaving small dragons to fly in their previously random, nonorbital paths.

They heard a huff. Turns out, when your head is in the clouds watching dragons light themselves on fire, anything happening on earth completely escaped your notice. One of the horses – Nightmares, as the boy called them – wandered over to their group. It looked young. The Nightmare circled them, boxing the boys in. Suddenly, it surged forward, mane roaring to life. Luckily, the campgrounds were behind them. The boys jolted, running back as if their lives depended on it. In their minds, they did. They didn't think about how as a horse, the beast would easily catch up with them if it cared to. The fear outweighed all rationality. A normal horse could kill a man easily. A magical one wouldn't even need to try.

They ran into the camp grounds just in time for their first lesson, panting and shaking from exertion. It was somewhat ironic, that the beast actually helped them be punctual. If it hadn't, they would have missed their first lesson: the basics. If they had missed the basics, they wouldn't have been able to catch up on the rest. But never mind the "what ifs," they were there on time, and that's what's important.

On time, and sweaty, panting, and drawing everyone's general eye. No one bothered to ask them what happened; Harry suspected the crazed glint he saw in the others' eyes wasn't just his imagination, and his looked just as insane.

They wandered over to a dilapidated building labeled "classrooms." Several other cabins were already there, and Harry could tell that there were more friend groups than had been at the orientation. Girls giggled in groups, shooting looks at the more muscular and less clothed men. The guys eyed girls in short-shorts and tank tops. _Hormones are obviously present in this group today,_ his magic whispered to him. _Then again, any time you put young people together you get something like this. Even school could get icky with the sap some of the couples would spout off. Nope, you will never be like them. If you even think about it, I'll make sure you're single forever. Bros before h-!_

 _Would you shut up? You're distracting me. And you could have told me that later!_ Harry interrupted. He had a feeling he knew where his magic was going, and he was horrified that his puppy-dog innocent magic would know that word. Hormones was bad enough. He'd have to have a serious discussion with his magic later. This could not go on!

Chase was the only reason he didn't look crazy. While Harry was fretting over the lost innocence of his magic ( _Can't wait till you have a daughter,_ it griped), Chase dragged him into the cabin. The other boy was used to Harry's behavior. Once Harry's magic learned how to talk to him, it always made little comments that dragged him into discussions.

The classroom had no desks or chairs. It just had a comfortable-looking mat that everyone was meant to sit on. Both the room and mat were circular, and in the center was a middle-aged man. His dark skin was almost blue, and he radiated controlled power. Harry instantly felt his magic settle, before it suddenly lashed out like a toddler running to something that catches its eye. Harry couldn't stop it. His magic touched the man's in a sudden shyness, and the man's previously closed eyes shot open to look straight at Harry. A few others did as well, most probably those who could see magic. The other types probably wouldn't have detected such a shift in so short a time span. They ignored it, though, and everyone gathered around the man. They all chose to face him from the front 180 degrees of his body, feeling instinctively the danger of sitting behind him. Harry's magic settled back around him, obviously now ready to learn.

His voice was as commanding as his presence, a softness combined with a deepness that would gain even the most distracted's attention. "You are here to learn. This will be your only warning. If you screw around in my class, I will have no issue kicking you out," the colloquialism did not deter the seriousness of the warning. "I will be teaching you the basics of what we will do here. The theory, what you will do, and how your magic will respond. Some of this will seem borderline preschool-ish to some of you, but if you don't listen, I guarantee you will miss something important, something that could mean life or death. There is no need for note taking, but attention and seriousness towards this will determine if I let you go through with this. If you can't pass my quiz the lesson before your first transformation, you will not be going home with an animal form. I hope you understand. If not, don't let the door hit you where the sun don't shine on your way out."

Some people fidgeted, but no one made the move to get up.

The man's eyes gained a malevolent glint, "Excellent."

The torture came from the headache halfway through, something intensified in Harry. After a short time in America, Harry was still catching up on the culture and the 'norm' for information known throughout the states. He still had issues remembering even the basics Mrs. Higgindobbins taught him. The information dump was almost too much as is. This one brought him to the edge of his sanity.

"Spiritualasis is achieved when the magic in the body uses magic from the earth to transform one into an animal and imbibes the person's cells with the knowledge and ability to do it again… Oftentimes, the ritual will call forth a spirit to help the magic more easily adapt the person's physical form... When your magic reacts to start the process, you will be encased in what looks like a gold bubble. This bubble will maneuver you and help you as needed. For example, if you are an aquatic creature, it will fill with water to keep you alive. If you are bigger than the space allotted to you allows, you will rise above the others, the bubble growing with you so we still have plenty of space and no crushed people. The bubble is nigh indestructible, and with good reason. Immediately after you undergo the process, the animal mind will take over. The bubble will contain you and make sure you and everyone around you are safe. This bubble we call…" And on and on it went.

Harry learned that they would start transformations in the middle of their stay. The hope was this would give enough time to those who could transform into both forms to adjust and re-go through the process. Even if not, the stragglers would stay until they could, or would wait and reschedule for another lesson. Anyone who left would also hopefully be able to somewhat handle the strain of another form or two and its respective instincts, but if not, there were people capable of teaching them in almost every magical settlement in America.

Turns out, the hourly breaks weren't between different classes, but to break up the monotony of the singular long class! Harry was just happy he got some time to process everything. Lunch was pizza and hamburgers, and in the course of the day Harry went swimming in the lake, foot races, bobbing for apples, and canoe races. Dinner consisted of spaghetti and meatballs, and the last activity scheduled was singing around the campfire, or in this case, bonfire.

The bonfire was where orientation had been. There, Harry got to try s'mores for the first time, met the three sisters he saw at orientation (their names were Hailey, Kailey, and Bailey, although he didn't know which was which), and learned that every teenager has a horrible singing voice if they try to sing louder than their neighbor. Whenever Hogwarts sings the school song, most mumble if anything at all, not wishing to be made fun of for a terrible singing voice. Today, no one cared. Everyone was ready to stink, and so everyone did. Like many things in this new world, Harry found that he loved it.

After the bonfire, Harry spoke quietly with Chase, not wanting anyone to know the inadequacy of his knowledge.

"Nightmares," Chase whispered, "are fire horses. There are several different breeds, but they are reclusive enough that we only know a few. Most of the time, their manes are like what we saw, but if they are distressed they will completely become fire. We think there's some kind of pecking order for the color of the fire, but we don't really know what. It's said that if a Nightmare trusts you, its fire won't burn you, but there's no evidence behind that.

"Pygmy dragons, on the other hand, are almost common in America. The Americas have several native dragon species, and there are farms and reserves for the different types. The pygmy dragon is just what we call smaller dragons, but their breeds are just as diverse as their larger cousins. We call a group of dragons an inferno. You saw them go up in flames, right? That's why. Pygmy dragons tend to stay in large groups; I think it has something to do with predators. Larger breeds habitually live by themselves whenever possible. Even so, it's rare to see either the nightmares or the pygmy dragons in the wild, much less together! Maybe it's something to do with both being related to fire?"

Harry laughed at his friend's curiousness. While he was normally reserved and quiet, Harry found he loved explaining things and did so with a passion. He once suggested Chase become a teacher, but Chase just stuck his tongue out and said, "I'm not dealing with all that standardizing bull. Besides, I hate most snot-nosed brats. Probably would kill one in my first year, and I don't need that on my record." Harry was surprised, but never brought up the topic again.

After a small conversation with his magic about nothing, Harry lied down. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

The following days followed in much the same vein, although the boys never built up enough courage to go exploring again.

Today was the day of the ritual, which would reveal their first forms.

The day started off with a breakfast of vegetables and fire-cooked venison. While Americans weren't certain if the diet of the day actually determined anything, they respected their Indian brethren and their culture enough to follow their traditions. The boys from Harry's cabin, and probably everyone else in the camp, discussed what forms they would like to have. One was worrying himself to death; he was convinced he would be a worm. Another contemplated the risks and rewards of having a dragon form. Chase was quiet in his assuredness of his form. Harry mentioned how his father had the form of a stag, and he wondered if his form would be similar.

Finally, it was time.

They dressed in tunics. The ritual would destroy any clothing on them. The "bubble" they learned about in their first lesson would haze around enough that they wouldn't be revealed, but until then the boys had to cover their nakedness with tunics. Tunics the others complained about. Tunics Harry was afraid to mention that were extremely similar to the apparel of the British Wizarding World.

Next, each was handed a potion. It was actually a juice made from some nearby berries, but the adults insisted the juice was a potion because it had magical properties. Harry didn't care; it still tasted better than any potion he'd ever had before. Half of the potion was to be consumed, the other half poured over their bodies during the last legs of the ritual.

They walked into a clearing filled with other campers. There were three such areas in the camps, designed so there would be less crowding. Each boy was directed to the center of a ritual circle filled with different runes, mainly those of the tribes who protected this land. Each circle and placement of person seemed random, but beyond that they all looked the same. The circles aligned with other circles to surround fires in the center. The distances varied, but with several such alignments of ritual circles and fires, it was assured that the warmth of the flames would reach everyone. It helped that the fires were only slightly smaller than bonfires. Spiritualists threw various plants and animal matter into the flames; the smoke changed color with each new addition. It was said that the various biological material would keep away malevolent spirits.

Everyone in their circles lied down on their fronts. More than likely, their forms would prefer that orientation over on their backs. There's an urban legend of a man who lied on his back and turned into a turtle.

The spiritualists stepped outside the range of the flames, bordering the edge of the clearing. Then, they started chanting. The potions bottles rose on their own accord and spilled their contents over the ritual-goers. The smoke from the flames started shifting colors to the leaping flames and lowered to cover all those in the circles. Harry was surprised to learn that breathing in the smoke didn't cause any coughing fit.

Then, the ritual circles flashed, and a dome surrounded each person. This was their "bubbles."

Harry felt his magic go _Bye!_ and shoot downwards from him into the earth. It came back with a _Say hello to my little friend_ and a warmth that surrounded Harry, seeping into his bones, and yet more still swirled around him. Then, it left again, heading for the flames. He heard it intone, _If anyone wishes to help us on this journey, come!_ Several others had already done so, and Harry could see smoky shapes physically leave the flames to join their selected ritual-goers. Some bubbles glowed gold and turned solid so no one could look in. Only a few rose in the air and grew like their teacher had taught. More and more bubbles were turning solid, and still Harry's magic hummed at the edge of the flames. Harry would've felt worried – he knew his magic reached the flames before many others' – but he had gone into a trance, and he knew _it_ was coming. If anyone could've asked Harry what _it_ was, he wouldn't be able to tell them, but his trance fogged any worry of what _it_ was away.

Before Harry's magic made it back, Harry's world went dark.

The spiritualists' chanting stopped; it was all up to the ritual-goers' magic now. It was a good thing, too, because their chanting would have been interrupted by their own incredulousness as a shape formed in the smoke. It wasn't formless like most spirits were, nor did it look smoky – it looked solid. The spirit crept forward towards Harry Potter. After it entered the ritual circle, the normal golden bubble appeared.

Harry woke up in a fog bank. "Hello?" he called.

"Hello," a shape rose from the smoke. It had a scythe in one hand, or at least Harry assumed it was a hand. The shape was completely covered in a cloak.

"Who are you?" Harry tried to show a brave face.

"Why, child, don't you recognize me? You've met me several times now. I even created this form, so you could recognize what your people think of me." Its voice was a haunting whisper, not necessarily scary, but definitely not of this world.

"I don't understand."

"No? Why, my child, I'm shocked. Surely you know who I am. Afterall, I am Death." The genderless voice said clearly.

Harry stopped breathing. _What?_ He could tell it was truthful; he could feel it. _Does that mean I died?_

"Oh, quiet your fear. You are not dead, that's me!" Did Death's voice sound… chipper? And did it just… make a pun?

"Ugh, you mortals. Think I must be serious all the time. But I'm not here on a work-related matter right now. Right now, I'm here to appoint my new chosen!"

"…What?" Harry thought that maybe his brain just stopped working, or maybe he was just dreaming.

"Hm, how to explain this in mortal terms…" Death muttered to itself. Louder, and to Harry, "Magic is a gift to your people, yes? Magic is able to give this gift when Fate allows it. If it were on Magic's terms, every being would have magic. Magic, Fate, and I all being anthropomorphized reconstructions of such terms. Do you follow me so far?"

"I guess." No.

"Don't lie to me, child. Concepts of your world – Fate, Destiny, and Fortune are all sisters; Magic; me; and several others – all have a… how do you say… consciousness. We do control several aspects of your mortal plane. We were given these jobs from a higher domain, although I cannot tell you for sure which of your long list of deities it would actually be. Fate likes to be a control freak, her sisters not far behind. Fate gives permission for a 'Consciousness' to choose for whom to bestow their gifts to. Magic and Knowledge are both overly eager children who want to give everyone everything. Me, on the other hand, have very few I can choose, and more often than not I have to share with Magic."

"Okay, but what does that have to do with me?"

"When you were hit with that curse – the one from when you were a baby – you were not actually hit with the full brunt of the magic. In the seconds before it could touch you, Fate told me I had a potential chosen. I couldn't just let my chosen die right off the bat. I was able to create a thin film of sorts in front of you; your mother gave me just enough time. The film changed the nature of the curse. Rather than prematurely aging your soul to the point of calling on my reapers – oh, by the way, that's how the spell kills – it turned into a mark bearing my power, which blessed you how I wished to. It didn't go quite as I planned, though. I couldn't create a proper barrier in time, so some of _his_ soul got caught in the vacuum of the magic."

Harry wasn't certain what to think. This was almost like his first few days in America. Too much information in too short a time. "His soul?"

"Yes. We'll get more to that later. Now, we're here to talk about your primary form."

"My…form?" Harry was pretty certain he sounded like an idiot right now.

"Yes. I think you should meet… you." Death chuckled at the horrible excuse of a joke.

The fog darkened, and from the shadows surged a beast. It's shoulder matched Death's, who's imposing figure reached upwards of six feet or more. The thing had a long snout, rounded head, and sharp teeth. It stood proudly; the long whip-like tail rested halfway down its legs. Its thick but short black fur rippled, and suddenly the fur was scales, just as black as before. The claws were partially hidden by the fog, but Harry thought they'd match the intimidating aura of the rest of the beast. The shadows seemed drawn to it, and its creeping red eyes burned through Harry's own.

This was him? What he was to become? Such a powerful creature that he could feel its magic from here? Harry's mind short-circuited.

"I think I'll call him he for right now to avoid confusion. Normally, Spiritualists wouldn't actually _see_ their form before they transformed, but they also normally don't commune with their helper spirits before they transform either, if ever. I doubt most spirits can conjure the likeness of the ones they're helping, anyhow.

"He is what your people call a hellhound. I just know his kind as my helpers. His kind is the ruling breed of the hellhounds, which I bred personally to achieve maximum efficiency. They are my personal helpers, and I will admit, I do get attached. It seems only fitting that my chosen human would also become my chosen hunter."

"Wh-what… do you mean by that?"

"I have two types of beings that help me gather souls. I only personally deal with the ultra-important ones, or the ones no one else can reach. I have what you would call reapers or angels, who are of human form. I believe the dead have decided that the reapers ferry people to hell while the angels ferry people to heaven. I think that's what they decided at least… Hard to say, your people are so confusing.

"Then, there are the hellhounds. The lowest tier guard the gates of hell. Those ones are known for bones armoring them or shown through their skin and their fire that seeps from the orifices in their skin and any opening in the being. I never did understand why your artists never show the fire that leaks from their buttholes, though."

All Harry could think of was _too much information_.

"Anyway, the next level up guard heaven. They look more like your average dog, though. After that would be the grims. They guard graveyards and people of interest. Your godfather, had he gone through this specific ritual, probably would have become a grim. They normally only appear to people as warnings, but many see them as a sign that death's coming. Heh, that's kinda funny. But, why would I bother with that? I'll come for you sooner or later.

"Lastly, we have the kind you are. I've never seen one so dark before, but I like it. I have them help ferry people to the afterlife. They are sometimes known as my hunters, simply because they sometimes must track errant souls who think they can escape me or just simply lose their way. They normally control shadows and sometimes one other element. I might have to bless you with one, now that I think about it. Another time, another place. This is his intimidating appearance." To the dog, "If you would, please."

The dog shook, and the scales turned back into sleek fur. Its eyes dimmed in intensity, although still a dark ruby or blood red. The shadows crept away from it. It looked more like a giant dog than the beast from before, although Harry couldn't pinpoint which breed it looked like. It still had much to sharp canines and talons on its feet, but it looked much more approachable.

It walked up to him. It stood over him, and it snorted when it reached him. It shrank to eye-level with him and nudged him with its nose.

"Oh, yeah," Death interrupted, "they can also change their size from about medium dog sized up to larger than what you saw earlier, although you'd need to be older before you saw that height as an ability. Your form matches you in age, afterall."

Harry and the hellhound ignored the being. He reached out, and it let him pet it. The thing even started to lean into his hand when he started to scratch it behind its ear! It softly _woofed_ and dissipated back into fog. Harry turned his awestruck eyes to Death.

Death pulled a random piece of parchment and a quill from nowhere. "Well, we've met. Check. Showed you your form. Check. I think that covers this get together. I'll see you soon, Harry."

Harry went to protest, but he blinked and found himself lying in the bubble from before, but not as himself. Long legs stretched before him with claws attached to the ends. He could vaguely see a snout in front of his eyes. He could feel his ears swiveling on his head. Harry growled. Scales formed from the fur on his legs and along his snout. He also felt stiffer down his back.

 _That-_

 _And you wonder how I know those words._ Magic, his magic, interjected. He hadn't realized it at the time, but during his confrontation he hadn't had any input with his magic.

 _What happened?_

 _Well, that spirit – Death? – helped prepare me for your change. You needed more death in you than I realized, so that helped. He – she? – it? – took your conscious mind away to prepare you for the change. Said it should help prepare you mentally. Said it could ruin something in your head. Of course, I said there was nothing to ruin, but it didn't listen to me! Anyway, we changed! Yay! Our form is so bad-_

 _Okay, okay, I get it!_ No he didn't, but he was glad his magic was there for him.

Harry glanced at the bubble surrounding him. It didn't seem to have grown nor moved from its position on the ground, so Harry assumed he was in a smaller form than he thought of. Harry glimpsed darkened shapes surrounding the bubble. His hackles rose without permission, so did his gums. Darkness enveloped him. It was liquid almost, but more importantly, it was _safe_. Darkness meant he wouldn't be spotted, darkness meant he was in _his_ territory, darkness meant-

Harry shook himself out of it. He knew the shapes should be the adult Spiritualists. He knew that right now, he was the fiercest being in this camp. Said fiercest being tried to stand, but found his legs shaking and his weight unfamiliar. He almost fell over, and his subsequent steps made him question if he would even be considered more intimidating than a _puppy._

Soon, though, Harry was stalking around the length of his bubble. He was so _bored!_ His magic informed him that he had been in his talk with Death for only five minutes, but Harry honestly felt he had been there for hours, and so did the crick in his neck. He was finally able to drop the darkness. When Death mentioned control over shadows, Harry didn't think he meant _pitch black!_

The bubble turned clear-ish. There was still a gold film, but everyone on the outside could see in, and he could see out. Some looked professional with clipboards and pens and pantsuits. Others looked armed to the hilt, ready to defend if something went wrong like the summer of '86 fiasco. And even more had an almost soothing look to them. They were the psychiatrists and doctors. They all looked shocked when they saw him. He only noticed enough to know where he might need to escape.

The bubble shimmered, and two people walked in. One – man, according to his scent – was armored to the hilt, the other one – woman – naked as a newborn. Harry would've blushed if his hellhound instincts couldn't care less about a naked human, and if the other one didn't seem as if it were a threat. They looked in awe at him. The woman cooed and stepped slightly forward. Harry felt his scales relax back into fur. He could practically taste the amazement these people were putting off. He stepped up to her, ready for his petting. Harry realized his shoulders matched her waist as he leaned against her while she petted him.

Harry knew who these people were. They were standard procedure. The ones with clipboards oversaw documenting what he was for the legal issues. The doctors helped determine if he were in the right state of mind or if he needed someone to help him get rid of his instincts. The protection detail was just that, protection. They didn't charge forward; it could spook the new Spiritualist into instinct fight-or-flight mode. The naked woman was meant to be the least intimidating possible. She helped guide the human back to their form, and it was easier to do so if the animal inside didn't classify them as a threat. Her guard had his wand ready to stun, tranquilizer dart in the other hand, and stun gun attached to his waist for easy accessibility, along with a real gun, sleep gas, cherry bombs, bear spray, and probably other things that weren't explained in the lessons. His only job was to make sure the woman came out of the bubble in one piece. Since ever animal was different, the only way to make sure that you could have any effect against them was to prepare for anything. A dragon could take stun guns, real guns, bombs, spells, and several other things before it went down, so better safe than sorry was the name of the game in this instance.

The woman coaxed Harry back to human form. His instincts settled in the back of his mind, a part of him, but neither yet ready to completely submerge themselves in each other. That was supposed to be normal. It would come with time and practice. That submergence determined if a Spiritualist mastered their form or not.

As he was wrapped in a warm wool blanket, Harry's mind was forcing him to look inwards rather than around him.

 _Death… I met Death. So strange. It didn't answer any of my questions. Oh well, hopefully that was the last I see of him._

 _Don't count on it._ His magic interrupted before it became a full-scale monologue. _He's Death, she can come see you anytime. It can do anything. Besides, even if you never see him in real life, you will die one day, and then we'll meet it as we ascend or descend, hopefully ascend. Might as well make the most of life now!_

 _What does that have to do with anything? I wasn't becoming depressive._

 _Au contraire, you're a hellhound now. That means you'll naturally become an emo, and I must prevent as much moping as possible!_

 _I am_ not _turning emo! And who said hellhounds are emo, anyway?_

 _Duh! Everyone knows it! They like the dark. They have to deal with lost souls. They howl at the moon._

Harry interjected unamusedly, _That's wolves._

 _And…and…they're emo! So, suck it up, buttercup! I'm here to help._

 _My hero,_ he responded drily, _what would I do without you?_ Harry's thoughts paused, _And did you tell Death I didn't have a mind to lose?_

 _No, I said you already lost it!_ He grumbled as his magic laughed.

 _Harry's Journal – Table of Contents_

Culture Differences, Extreme Basics of the Differences of Magic, Magic Sensing…page 3

The Basics of Money, Explanation of Foci, Based Magic, My Magical Sensing, Spiritualist Basics …page 4

Classification of Spells, Magical Tattoos, The True Evils of Magic…page 5

Animagus Ritual, Death and its Hellhounds…page 7

 **Sorry for the long wait. Life (and my inherent need to procrastinate) forced my hand. But look! But see! Nice long pretty chapter to make up for it!**

 **I actually used the hellhounds from _Riddick_** **as a base for Harry's form. Not exactly the same, but there are some similarities (I'm not too used to trying to write out details, though, so it probably seems _way_ more similar than I meant it to.). (I've only seen bits and pieces from the movie, the only reason I knew about it was because I did a search on hellhounds to figure out what I wanted Harry's form to look like.)**

 **Also, thanks guys for helping me find that story! This story was inspired by questionablequotation's _Harry Potter and the Lightning Scar_ , or at least the idea of using Native American tribal practices definitely came from it. I suggest you go check it out if you're interested!**

 **Also, next chapter should reveal Harry's nonmagical form. Trust me, a huge part of the reason why I chose this canine is because of the irony behind it.**

 **I actually tried to leave Death slightly mysterious along with a slightly goofy-dad joke type of being (and then my wanting to explain _everything_ started popping in). I tried to make Harry so bewildered that he couldn't ask questions. If _you_ have a question for Death (or me), tell me in the comments or PM me, and I'll try to explain in the story if at all possible.**

 **Finally, actual question for this chapter: Should I try making these Author's Notes shorter (and if so, how)? Should I move more content to the beginning? Do you guys just don't care and skip Author's Notes? (Dumb question, if you did that, you wouldn't be answering this question.)**

 **Answers to review question(s):**

 **Nitroexpress: I think the shadow part makes him inherently dark in the literal sense. And in the magical UK sense, remember they consider a grim a dark creature, and Harry's now a step beyond that! The red chief thing was just meant to show Harry's magic's distractedness and that the Spiritualist magic is heavy duty, so just a general warning to everyone. Harry's just the only one who can understand his magic so intimately. Hope this helps!**

 **Thanks for all the positive feedback guys!**

 **Published: 3/31/18**

 **Review, follow, favorite, whatever suits your fancy.**


	8. VIII: Dirt? Ick!

**Disclaimer: No, just (yawn) no.**

 _Chapter Eight_

Harry woke this morning to an elephant trumpeting nearby. Every person who underwent the transformation had found themselves asleep soon afterwards. The process is draining for both the body and the mind. Everyone falls asleep in a sleeping bag provided by the camp near the bonfire area to help the rookies' animals to settle down back into their consciousnesses. As it turns out, sometimes, when one wakes up their animal mind wasn't completely gone to begin with!

The elephant, no-maj and huge and _loud_ , was startled from sleep, reacting in such a way that the most primal reaction came forth from those around him. Normally, this would result in a person screaming or jumping away or something of that sort. Normally, people are not freshly minted Spiritualists whose primal instincts are now more closely aligned with their animal form rather than their human form. Normally, one doesn't see a teenager transform into a blue whale and then crash into the lake. Normally, normally, normally. Now Harry learned that America just doesn't do normal. Their customs, their food, their magic was as abnormal from the United Kingdom's as possible. Harry normally didn't completely mind it; he was the same, after all.

This morning, after a particularly draining ritual and transformation, he wasn't quite feeling his normal self, and neither were several others.

Harry transformed into his average dog sized form, growling at the beast who _dared_ ruin his beauty sleep. He heard several others all around, yowling and growling and trumpeting and hissing in agreement.

The sound of a gunshot quieted them all down. The one his magic called Red Chief stood, an old pistol still smoking in his hands. His weathered face was unreadable; his mouth somewhere between a frown and a straight line.

"Now," he called, "while I understand many of you are unhappy with the wakeup call, be assured we will not tolerate anymore tomfoolery for such nonsense."

Harry's tail twitched. _Of course they were all making fools of themselves, that was loud!_ He swallowed the growl forming in his throat, his creature instincts towards a threat fighting his human intellect. If Harry was in the right state of mind, he might've even compared the similarities of the two to him and his magic.

Harry looked around, and immediately felt guilty for his initial reaction. His sleeping bag, along with several others, were ripped apart by the transformation. His claws had ripped through the material easily to react to the perceived threat. He had to stop himself from laughing, though, when he some animals tangled in their cocoons. One Chihuahua was running around inside, completely unable to find the opening to the bag. The only reason he knew it was a Chihuahua was because the girl had slept beside him and took forever to shut up about her "oh-so-cute" transformation.

She was just as yappy as the animal she became.

With some help from the teachers, cabin counselors, and anyone who didn't wake up in the violent, animalistic way Harry and several other newbies (read: every new spiritualist within a mile of the elephant) did, all the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed (for some, literally) campers were able to get started for the day.

Everyone, that is, excluding Harry.

He didn't feel any animalistic instincts like he had when he first transformed. By all considerations, since Harry had not mastered his select form yet; there should be no reason he was still transformed. The animal spirit mind and instincts takes over, or at least hovers around, the human mind. This actually helped the human mind cope and get a feel for its new body. If not for this protection, most went insane.

Harry didn't feel insane, nor did he feel any awkwardness in his new form. It felt just as natural as being in human form. Excluding the first shock that morning, Harry couldn't tell where his animal mind even _was._

He lied on the ground, whimpering and whining when someone would suggest a solution, only for it not to work. He tried imagining himself as human. He tried communicating and negotiating with his magic. ( _I don't know. You got us into this mess.)_ He even tried standing on his hind legs and walking like a human. (All he got for that one was some girls telling him he looked "cute" and some boys snickering and saying "cute" in that faux-feminine accent all boys could do when imitating girls and making fun of their friends for being so "manly." Not even turning himself into his spikey form could convince them to stop ribbing him.)

While the adults and experts debated, Harry looked around pathetically. He might not be allowed to find out if his other form could be possible tomorrow! The way the adults were talking, he might never be human again! Harry had to get away from there.

Like magic, he felt the shadows cover him. The darkness's coolness encroached on him from where his shadow rested behind him upwards towards the top of his back and forwards to finally cover his front. The darkness closed around his eyes, circles forming in such a way it seemed like he had a camera lens turning and closing until there was a small circular pinprick of light, and then everything was black and cool. Harry did not panic, however, because only a few seconds later warmth touched his face, and the reverse happened. Light spiraled outward, warmth and light moved from the top of his head to under his back paws. During the darkness and light's movement in covering his eyes, Harry could not focus on what his eyes were seeing. He could tell there was light and darkness, but as if in a daydream, the could not see colors or shapes. In some ways, he went temporarily blind.

Once the light had completely re-submerged his vision, Harry realized he was not in the campgrounds anymore. It looked like he was in a dark swamp. Shapes filtered through the water in front of his nose. Warm, soupy mud covered his paws and lower legs. His nose was assaulted with the smell of rotting vegetation, and his hide felt the tickle of brambles shifting in the wind behind him.

Movement caught the corner of his eye, and he turned his head to a house hidden in the swamp. It looked like an American Civil War era mansion found in the south. It had a white paint job and tall columns supporting its three stories. No lights were on, but it seemed inhabited.

Harry lumbered over to the mansion. His feet made icky squishing and squelching sounds as he plodded through the goopy mess. As he got closer to the building, the mud lessened, and he walked on firmer and firmer ground. By the time he reached the gates of the mansion, Harry was walking on springy green grass that every housewife wished lined her yard, although Harry was walking in the most undignified manner he could, shaking his paws clean of the mud as he went. He tried wiping them in the grass, he tried dignified paw shaking, and then, he was just moving his paws as much as he could to try to get the _tar_ off his feet!

 _Quit being a baby,_ his magic said. _It's just mud._

 _Easy for you to say,_ Harry grumbled, _it's not in between your pads and claws. There's so much, I think my nail's about to pop off!_

His magic muttered about _over dramatic wizards_ and _Why do I get the weird one?_ and _He's such a girl._

Harry growled at that last one. He was not a girl, thank you very much!

His fur flexed, shifting from smooth fluff into the spears and spikes of his more intimidating look. Harry was not happy. Why couldn't he just be normal?

The gates – black, metal, _intimidating_ things with spearpoints just visible on top - were open, although Harry couldn't read the sign on the arch overhead. For some reason, fog covered the skyline, but the ground, while dark, was perfectly clear. When he passed through, he felt a slight resistance, which pushed evenly on anything between the iron gates, as if he walked through a wall of magic. This had the added effect of brushing off all the icky goop known as mud off himself, which Harry was instantly grateful for.

The dark windows and scenery did nothing to detract from the beauty of the mansion. It was almost like Hogwarts, in a way. There was something mystical about it that mere architecture could never achieve.

As Harry lumbered up to the mansion, he realized he was not the size of a normal dog. He stood at the brass door knocker, and he hadn't even walked up the steps yet! Either he had grown, or he was next to a doll house. Then again, didn't Death say hellhounds could change their size?

He was about to climb up the steps when he felt a prickling on his neck, literally. His fur was hardening, protecting any area that would be a predator's immediate target spot. Under his belly and around his neck, namely. Harry spotted red sparks of light surrounding him, although while they weren't moving, he knew they were watching him, that those things were eyes!

Harry shivered. This was too much like a horror movie!

Hearing a creak, Harry whipped his head back to the front door. A tall, dark, hooded figure rested in the entryway. An aura washed around Harry, an aura he knew all too well.

 _Death?_ he wondered.

"Oh, my," yep, only Death had that haunting whisper. "What have we here? Child, I don't know whether to commend you for finding this realm or reprimand you for doing so without my guidance. Now, let's see if we can get you to a more… simple form."

 _Harry's Journal – Table of Contents_

Culture Differences, Extreme Basics of the Differences of Magic, Magic Sensing…page 3

The Basics of Money, Explanation of Foci, Based Magic, My Magical Sensing, Spiritualist Basics …page 4

Classification of Spells, Magical Tattoos, The True Evils of Magic…page 5

Animagus Ritual, Death and its Hellhounds…page 7

 **Double sorry for both the wait and the length of this chapter. I had huge writers block, and I'm horrible at keeping myself focused on any of my goals (such as finishing this). Most of this section was written in one sitting, and I felt like this was a good place to stop. (My personal goal is 1,000 words a chapter, so at least you got that…) Unfortunately, I see this being a theme in the coming months. Hopefully not, but we'll see (but I will finish this! I hate uncompleted stories!).**

 **I meant to "reveal" Harry's nonmagical form in this chapter, but that's not how it played out. Honestly, the entire swamp scene to the end came to me as I was typing this up. At least you can see it in the new cover I made. The two pictures I found in my screenshots, so I have no clue where they came from! They're not mine, and I send my thanks (and disclaimer) to the people who made them!**

 **dragons9: The horcruxes will be explained either next chapter or several chapters from now (I have decided not to make any promises for _when_ I put information in). I have no plans for pairings at the moment; I might not have any pairings at all. Depends on what I feel like when I get to that portion. I'm also not too certain how I want Harry to interact with Britain, so no clue about adoptions or anything of that sort. I hate putting plans to my stories now, simply because I never keep to the plan. I kind of just imagine specific little scenes, and build the story off of that. Trust me, it's a wondering story for us both.**

 **Thanks for all the support! Any theories will have to wait for just a little longer!**

 **Published: 6/11/18**

 **Review, follow, favorite, whatever suits your fancy.**


	9. IX: Haunted House and New Playmates

**Disclaimer: *old, crazy grandma voice* If someone thinks I own this thing, they're – they're crazy! I'll beat them with my cane if they come crying to me about it! It was those rotten grandkids of mine, wasn't it?! I'll get them, and their little dogs, too!**

 _Chapter Nine_

Death somehow… expanded?... the doors to fit Harry's larger bulk. They didn't _seem_ to expand, but Harry walked through them fine. Maybe Death shrunk him?

They wandered through the entranceway, an imposing structure of neutral colors. They walked directly into the family room, fire already crackling merrily in front of a soft rug, squashy couch, and armchairs. Death settled itself into the main seat directly in front of the fire. Harry sat down on the rug in between the two.

"Let's start with the switch, shall we?" Death questioned. Before Harry could reply, Death stated in an almost feminine baby-talk, "Now, if you don't wake up, I'll never give you belly rubs for the rest of eternity."

Something in Harry perked up. Instantly, he was overtaken by his instincts. Instincts that made him whine, rub his head against Death's knees, and lay on his back, revealing his stomach to prove that Death had no need to contemplate such a horrible future.

If Harry the human had been in control, he would've balked at acting like a puppy, much less _touching Death itself!_ Unfortunately for Human Harry, he was not in control.

"Aw, aren't you a good boy? Yes, you are! Yes, you are!" Death continued in its baby-ish voice, which sounded strange in its androgynous whisper that he still heard. Harry felt his tail wag as Death's fingers scratched against him. _No, no, to the left, right – ah…_ Death scratched his belly right where his back leg started to kick from the pleasure.

When Death stopped, Hellhound Harry couldn't help but let out a whine. "Child, you must not fall asleep in this form, or your human will panic."

Hellhound Harry barked. He didn't mean to cause his human side to panic, but he was _so_ tired! Even though he was _technically_ full grown, he was still so close to being a pup he was exhausted once he turned twice in twenty-four hours, not to mention that it was his first transformation combined with the violence of the second.

"Now let your human come out to play. We have much to talk about."

Hellhound Harry turned inward, forcing his human to the surface and taking his form with him. Maybe next time, his human side will want to play.

Human Harry lied on the ground, panting. Only the scraps of his underwear hung on; he still hasn't learned yet how to keep all his clothes on afterwards, so this was a bigger improvement than most would realize.

He scrambled to his feet, a blush spreading across his cheeks at how he acted around _Death_. Death, for its part, sat on the seat, hands folded over its lap, and no other discernable emotions in its form. Even when it was rubbing Hellhound Harry's belly, it could've easily seemed as bored with the world as much as enjoying all it had to offer.

With barely a flick of its now cloaked over hand (Harry still wasn't certain if it were actual fingers under there), Harry stood in a dark cloak of his own. It matched Death's to the point of his fingertips being swallowed by fabric and his own hood brushing against his back, not covering his head like Death's. If Harry wasn't so confuddled, he might've felt the similarities with his own cloak of invisibility. Another time, perhaps.

Death gestured to another seat, that, while not being directly in line with its own seat, stood in such a way it'd be comfortable to talk between the two and not feel _too_ casual. Harry didn't know if he could handle sitting directly at Death's side just yet.

"It is amazing," Death muttered at last, "only two transformations, and already your animal side respects you so much. It is… as confounding as it is enjoyable, to see such potential already, my apprentice."

Wait… what?

"Ah, my bad," Death, while not physically looking any different than before, sounded slightly embarrassed. "Yes, to fully harness your capabilities in this form, I am afraid you will have to become my apprentice. While it may not be the most… fun… to learn from me, it must be done, if only to keep your animal side at peace enough to not cause too much of a ruckus."

Harry didn't think he could jump up and spit his normal fire at the - deity's? – words if he wanted to. While normally he would rant and rave at the injustice of not having a choice in the matter, his limbs went cold and wouldn't respond. Not that it mattered, anyway. He was too shocked to make a single coherent thought.

Death seemed to stare at him for a moment, as if waiting for a reaction, before continuing with its dialogue. "Do not worry, any who've become such a creature has apprenticed under me, one of your ancestors, included. I have no doubt you will become just as great as him and his brothers."

Even in his shocked stupor, Harry soaked up the information about his family, no matter if this ancestor wouldn't have been important even if his parents had lived.

"First matter of business, your training grounds," Death continued. "While I, myself, could appear anywhere to help you, Life tends to get touchy about how I would ruin the balance, blah blah blah blah blah. Also, it would help you if you had some normality, or at least, regularity, within your training. Besides, I doubt you want all your dreams to feature me, no matter how amazing I am."

Death wasn't necessarily preening; it hadn't even moved yet, which caused an instinctive caution in Harry. Nothing living stood so still. Then again, Death wasn't quite _living,_ was it? There was, however, a smug pride tugging at its voice.

"I believe this will be suitable housing. It is in neutral territory and you have proven you can travel here, so you already have some form of familiarity with it. Even better, no others have claimed this lot, yet. Yes, I believe you will come to enjoy visiting here, if nothing else. As a matter of fact, this one's yours!"

Harry finally snapped out of his confusion, "What?"

"We'll go over the details later." And snapped right back in. If Death's body had been more expressive, Harry was sure it would have waved off his question. It started to seemingly talk to itself, although the almost lack of volume change was off-putting. Maybe because it was already whispering, Death couldn't lessen its volume? Harry just didn't know, nor did he care.

"You'll also need other teachers, before I can personally train you. I think I know who should do that." Death snapped at a nearby… lamppost? "You, go get me Alpha Fire, Beta Water, and Omega Earth." A shadow shifted and flowed from the room. "Now, where was I? Oh, yes! Other teachers, along with better training grounds than what's out there now. Also, sparring partners. Yes, and if they live here… Ah, I'm a genius! Now, what about-? No, no, that just won't due. I'll worry about it later. Great! I think that's every-. No, no, there's also the-. Well, that should be easy enough…"

Death continued in this manner, not actually giving away anything useful for Harry to discern what was going on. The rambling only lessened when three distinct howls echoes.

"Ah, yes. Here they are, your tutors."

Harry watched as three familiar figures slinked into the room. All were varying shades of grey, and they all seemed to have the exact same build and features. The only differences they held were what was going on with their… fur?

The three hellhounds - for, that must've been what they were – sat at attention, noses pointed perpendicularly towards Death; although, the one closest seemed to shoot glances at Harry in regular intervals.

"Boys, I know you have enjoyed your forms for as long as you have, but I also know you yearn for your forms once past. Well, now you get that chance! You three will tutor Harry, here, to become a proper hellhound of the royal bloodline. Harry," Death's head turned back from looking at the imposing figures to him, "these three will be your tutors. I think they will be a great help to you; after all, they are your ancestors. I think with their training, you can make your bloodline proud."

The hellhounds' ears perked at that as their heads turned towards Harry. Harry knew if he were in his spiritual form, he would have done the same. Ancestors? Bloodline?

"Your training will officially begin at a later date, but I feel it would be imperative to get to know your relatives a little better before starting. Unfortunately, boys," the hellhounds turned back to Death, "I cannot grant you back your bodies until you reach that part of the training, and at the moment, we don't want Harry to transform again so soon. He is too close to being a pup to transform once again in the time we have left."

The one that kept sneaking glances at him stalked towards his form, snuffling at his clothes before finally licking Harry on the cheek. For some reason, before this action, Harry was intimidated by the other hellhounds, even though they were not in their more intimidating form. Harry's own instincts forced him to subconsciously realize that these were _pack,_ and not only pack, but _pack elders_. He knew, if they did not accept him, he would be heartbroken. Even if consciously, he would have no idea why.

The one's lick seemed to make the intimidation factor lessen, and the other two snuffled at his face as well, their tails wagging away (although they did not lick him like the first).

"So, Harry, in terms of oldest to youngest, first we have your so-many-greats uncle, Antioch, the strongest of the lot." One hound seemed to raise its (his?) head at the introduction, so Harry assumed it was he whom Death spoke of. This one was the darkest of the three, with almost orange eyes and flames licking from the very tips of his fur.

"Next, we have your other uncle, Cadmus, the intelligent one." This one raised its paw, as if in greeting. A medium grey coat with gleaming, blood red eyes met Harry's own eyes' perusal. Its fur was the longest of the bunch, rippling as if its owners were swimming through a body of water.

"And, finally, we have you so-many-greats grandfather, Ignotus, the crafty one." The final hound was the one who licked him. While Harry's own hound eyes held an intensity that made it difficult to determine an exact shad, this one's eyes held the exact opposite problem. A dull red stared back at him, although they were so diluted compared to the others' eyes, it was difficult to tell. The dullness, however, did not distract from the emotion in the beast's eyes (although what emotion it was, Harry couldn't place). His fur was borderline white, and seemed to have darker grey dust speckled in. Harry could feel bits of dirt clinging to his skin where the hound had sniffed him.

All three hounds settled around Harry, as if claiming him as one of their own. Their postures relaxed, and Cadmus even lied down. Harry felt a warm glow inside that his relatives accepted him for who he was; although he now held even more questions, such as why they were hellhounds, and why would they teach him?

"And now onto the less sentimental portion of this meeting before I must send you back," Death whispered. "You are in a realm between Death and Life. Both me and my sibling have claims for various plots of what would translate to you as 'land,' although technically they are only here in a metaphysical sense that I don't want to go into the logistics of. Unfortunately, outside these 'plots,' are the intermediate lands. They are dangerous, with several species of spirits that hold no love for either living or dead, and they will attack you. So, in other words, while here, don't leave the property line, ever. Capisce?"

Harry nodded his head emphatically, even though a portion of his brain muttered, _I_ have _to explore outside, now._

"Luckily, the line is clearly in view, what with the fence directly on it, so you won't _accidentally_ wander out like the third-floor corridor in your first year." Harry knew it was saying this as a warning more than anything.

"This particular property of mine will fall under your jurisdiction, now. It is one I know you are familiar with, and it has no owner currently. Only hounds, angels, and reapers who still live may oversee such properties, so your ancestors will not be able to take over for you if you so desire. They may help you with understanding such responsibilities, but responsibility will still fall on your shoulders.

"You will, at least for the time being, use this as a training facility. I understand you wish to continue staying in the living realm, and I will not stop you. However, you and your family will determine a schedule for you to come here and train. While you are gone, they may live here as they so desire." The three hounds nodded their heads once to show that they would. "You may bring various creatures here, especially those more closely related to death. You may not, however, bring any human-esque beings here, such as werewolves, elves, mermaids, or humans themselves. They will die if you do so."

Harry nodded once more, although much more somberly and seriously. He didn't want anyone to die because of him.

"You may meet other deathly beings at some point while you are here, although when will be determined by circumstance. Do not worry over staying here for too long, time flows differently, more slowly, here than in the living realm. Finally, before we teach you how to go back and forth from here, you must read this book. While full of lies, it will give you somewhat of an idea behind your family's story." Death tossed a worn-out book from his sleeves. It landed perfectly in his lap, allowing Harry to see the title: _The Tales of Beedle the Bard._ One look, and all his ancestors started growling at the offending stack of parchment. "More specifically, read _The Tale of the Three Brothers_ ; it will give you minimal answers to your question, or at least, how the wizarding world views these subject matters we will be speaking of during my next visit." A bookmark appeared where Harry guessed the story took place. "Oh, and read this one; much more factual and helpful. Of course, more dull, too." _So, You Want to Take Care of a New Deadly Property, Volume III_ landed in his lap with the same precision as the first.

The rest of the visit, Harry learned from Death and his extended family how to come and go from the property and how to bring visitors. It involved a method of travel involving the shadows, so Harry just called it "Shadow Travel." He did wish he had more creativity, but they wouldn't tell him what the official name was. He might have asked more questions, but any time they did not involve his current training, Death would brush them off. It said, "Too much information only makes those who can either process it or ignore it happy. Everyone else is left scrambling to remember anything."

With one last parting wave, and a slobbery kiss from Ignotus, Harry shadow travelled back to the campgrounds, where he found a befuddling sight.

 **Finished! (At least, for the chapter.)**

 **I can't decide what I want the three brothers to look like, thoughts?**

 **Thanks for all the support, guys! I'm glad I can make some of you happy! (And hopefully wherever I take this story will continue to do so.) Over 280 favorites and 420 follows, I'm proud of that! (Especially when I first posted I thought I'd get, like, single to double digits.)**

 **Time313: Thanks… I think? Your reviews looked positive, so I'm going to guess they were…**

 **VizeerLord: Do you mean post more chapters or more _in_ the chapters? Either way, my only goal is one chapter whenever I can with a minimum of 1,000 words in the actual story. After that, I stop in places that make me go "Good enough!" Horrible way of determining things, but there you have it.**

 **Jetray1000: Now? I just write when the spirit moves me off my rear end.**

 **snowyassas1n: Nope, nothing with Alex. Are you talking about the kiss on the cheek from chapter five? Think of that as the sisterly, embarrassing kiss, where the point is more to smear lipstick on the sibling's cheek. It was meant to embarrass him, and both Harry and Alex know it.**

 **Once again, I have no plans for romance in this story! If it happens, it happens! But don't interpret anything that the oblivious could take as familial or friendly for romantic gesture. I want to try to be able to develop more in those relationships for Harry at the moment than romance. I feel he needs those more, and I am still new at writing, so I'd rather focus on building up proper relationships before Harry has any of those feelings. If you want romance, my other fanfic, _Children Are Beautiful Creatures,_ will have something of the sort in it (although how much I haven't decided yet).**

 **Published: 7/14/18**

 **Review, follow, favorite, whatever suits your fancy.**


	10. X: Fainting Spells

**Disclaimer: *Holds up random copy of Harry Potter book***

 **Me: Does this mean I don't need to put a disclaimer anymore? I do now own a Harry Potter book.**

 **Copywrite dog (the animal that sniffs out those who do not follow copywrite laws): *growl***

 **Me: Okay, okay, geez. Just figured this meant I at least didn't have to put a disclaimer at the beginning of every chapter. *sigh* Oh, well. On with the show that I can't claim entirely as my own!**

 _Chapter 10_

Well, befuddling for the first few seconds, terrifying the next. Harry first saw all the other campers huddled to the side with the adults standing protectively in front of them. Many wands and other _sharp, pointy_ things were directed towards him. Harry might've thought they were scared of him, if not for the fact that they seemed to look _through_ him, as if he were still a shadow. (For the record, he knew _exactly_ what that felt like. During his Shadow Travel practice session, he got stuck in the "In Between" enough times to know the sensation.)

Harry, curious and concerned enough in those few seconds of observation, turned around to face whatever spooked them. He was not disappointed.

As it turns out, while Death explained that time in the "Realm Between" (different than the "In Between") moved more slowly than in the living realm, it had not explained by how much. As Harry turned, he learned that the time passed in the living realm was _more than enough._

That was the only explanation for how a deranged Nightmare stood huffing _right behind him_. There was no comprehensible reason why the magical horse hadn't noticed him yet, nor was there a comprehensible reason for why of all places, he emerged from _its_ shadow. A thought for another time, perhaps.

The Nightmare was a dark black in color, with dark blue flames licking as its mane and tail. Two lines of flames that looked like embers lined its shoulders and back, separate from its mane. Harry couldn't tell from this angle, but similar embers seemed to make a spot on the horse's forehead. What he could _definitely_ tell from this angle, though, was how massive the thing stood. Its shoulders eclipsed Harry's own by several inches, and its head rose even higher than that.

All in all, the thing was even more terrifying than the one that chased him and the other boys just the other day. Had it really been less than a week?

The Nightmare, which Harry assumed had gotten its breath back, shook its head back and forth, mad. Its eyes rolled back in its head, and the amount of exertion it had obviously already expended frothed from its spit.

It looked crazed, and like it had rabies.

Harry quickly backed up, all instincts towards preservation, which screamed _get away from the thing that will trample you without even trying!_ His movement must've caught the corner of the beast's eye, though, because it turned its head in his direction. The dark eyes gleamed from its own fire mane. Harry's instincts warred. One side argued, _Get the bloody hell away from that thing!_ while the other said, _You turn, you get burned._

He reset and slowly backed away, keeping his front to the fire horse. The horse leaped forward, faster than Harry could track, hitting him in the chest with its muzzle.

Harry laid on his back, now staring up at the thing that focused its attention solely on _him_. It still huffed from its exertions from earlier, yet the beast did not look as mad as it did just seconds ago. Rather, it seemed _assessing_. It pawed the ground near Harry's hand, which made the boy's hand jump to his chest. Now, let it be said that Harry's hands, like many people's who do not wish to lay back against the ground when there's a danger in the area, were supporting him, and while normally his weight would transfer to the other one to allow for him to stay in that position, Harry's panicked yet tense movements had the added effect of not allowing his body to naturally compensate for that weight. In layman's terms, he fell over, his head and shoulders rolling _towards_ the pawing hoof that threatened his hand he oh-so-desperately was trying to protect.

His heart froze.

So did the horse's hoof.

The beast's giant head lowered to be almost even with Harry's own. Their eyes met, and an understanding seemed to pass between them. The Nightmare huffed and shuffled backwards, allowing Harry to clamber to his feet. With one last huff and shake of mane, the horse turned back towards the woods from which it came, reared back, whinnied, and dashed back into the forest's depths.

Harry stood and watched it.

If someone were to ask Harry what that understanding might have been, he couldn't have told them. As soon as the Nightmare disappeared, his memory shifted, and only an imprint of something of importance nagged at him from the recesses of his mind. He could remember all the actions that had taken place, but not the _why_ of the matter. He figured that the horse, in its own madness, ran off through no actual reasoning or logic of its own.

Harry turned to his fellow campers. They stared at him, wide-eyed. A film covered their eyes, like that from a daydream. The adults were the first to snap out of it, the children soon after.

Their heads, already turned in Harry's direction, looked over the boy, before exclamations of excitement rose from the crowd. The adults dashed forward, checking him over for any signs of injury. The children, not too far behind, clamored for his attention, asking all manner of questions ranging from, "Where'd you go?" to "You sure know how to get everyone worried, huh?"

Harry, even with all his dealings with the British Wizarding World's hero-worship of him, was a socially-inept, crowd-hating introvert at heart. And like any person who fit this category, his mind panicked even worse than when facing the Nightmare, he froze at the smothering of attention. He could answer no questions, yet the longer he stayed silent, the more the crowd, as they so often do, came up with their own answers. Yes, he was fine. He went somewhere outlandish. Of course, he knew how to worry everyone. The crowd came to mutual agreements without any input and asked more and more outlandish questions of him. They seemed to grow louder, clamoring for attention and starting to bodily shove each other this way and that to have a prime spot to ask him a question he would never answer.

The adults, they themselves ignoring the children to focus on Harry, provided the only measure of protection from the mob. The children pushed at some invisible line that separated them from the adults (and therefore, Harry), inching closer, but never touching.

Harry, mid-panic attack, started hyperventilating. And as the brain lacked oxygen, the body went on autopilot to fix it. Everything went dark as the ground rushed to meet him.

Harry wouldn't know it, but while that shifted the adults from questioning into action, it excited the mob even more. Finally, some adults took notice of the crazed children and together put a calming spell over the lot.

One boy, not a part of the mob, but kept away from Harry because of it, only gulped. His mother wanted him to welcome Harry into American culture with as much comfort as possible. He winced at the thought of the spanking he'd receive if she found out about the drama that had happened over the past day. It wasn't even noon, and his new friend had been through more than possibly any other camper who came to become a spiritualist. _At least,_ he thought, _this will make his vacation more memorable._ Yeah, while he agreed with his mother, Chase Higgindobbins was not looking forward to his mother finding out her newest charge (even if he didn't realize she considered him that) had such an eventful trip already.

…

Harry woke to the sounds and smells he knew well. He was in the med-tent, which was too much like Hogwarts Hospital Wing, in Harry's sophisticated opinion.

He turned his head to see Chase sitting beside him, seemingly waiting for him to wake up. He did not look amused.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

Chase grunted, "I don't know, you tell me. One minute, you're sitting there, looking pitiful, and the next you just disappear! Then you stay away for at least ten minutes, and everyone is freaking out over where you'd gone! Only to appear suddenly again as if nothing happened! In your human form! Do you know how worried everyone was? And you just waltz in as if there was no reason for you _not_ to be gone! Then you have to cause another panic by _fainting_! Do you know stressful it is to wait on you to wake up and _pray to God_ no one told my mom? Do you?"

Harry stared at Chase, mouth slightly dropped and eyes wide. The only thing he could manage past his astonishment was, "That's the most you've ever talked."

It might have been humorous to an outsider, to see one crazed boy and the other in a complete state of befuddlement facing off, but to the two boys, this interaction was as serious as they come.

"Besides," Harry finally choked out, "what happened with that Nightmare?"

"Nightmare?" Now, the roles were reversed, slightly. Now both boys stared at each other in an incomprehensible stupor.

"Yeah, the Nightmare?"

"Harry," Chase said, serious, "there was no Nightmare. What are you talking about? Did you have a dream when you passed out?"

Harry stared at his friend, thoughts running through his mind. It didn't sound correct, but if Chase said so, "Yeah, yeah. I guess I did."

…

Harry stayed in the med-tent for the next hour as the medical personnel ran tests. They didn't just have to check him over from the panic episode, they also had to check him over for any adverse side effects from his "disappearing act" and the effects from when he was stuck in his spiritual form. While they stressed how important it was to know all the information they could, Harry remained steadfast in not telling them anything about the Realm Between. Not because he felt they wouldn't believe him (although he knew they wouldn't), but because he did not want anyone to know his connection to Death. He still wasn't certain what to make of it. Wasn't death supposed to be a bad omen, no matter the cause? If that's the case, he had the ultimate omen he could've received from that interaction.

Chase hovered outside near the doorway. He couldn't get in anyone's way, but he was still concerned for Harry. Or at least, that's what Harry hoped.

It was strange to Harry, to have someone wait on him like this. Normally, he was unconscious when he came to the Hospital Wing, and he had to stay for at least a day after he awoke. Ron and Hermione physically _couldn't_ stay nearby the entire time because they had classes, or they had some other thing they had to do. They also knew Madam Pomfrey would not allow them anywhere near his bed even after she finished with him. She always stressed he needed the rest, but he was often too awake to sleep, and just sitting in a hospital bed was boring. Harry suspected she didn't approve of his friends, that somehow, _they_ were the ones responsible for his injuries. Maybe she thought his "dangerous tendencies" (her words, not his) were amplified with them there, like little overexcited kids fed off each other and never calmed down. Either way, they didn't bother staying. Hermione and Ron had figured out long ago when they could visit Harry, and they didn't push the matron to stop visitation rights altogether. Either way, they couldn't wait for him, and he had learned to accept that.

Chase didn't have such things keeping him from visiting Harry. He sat on a chair outside the door, directly in Harry's line of sight. When Harry looked over, he'd either smile encouragingly or make silly faces to keep any type of boredom from reaching Harry. Before he left the room, Chase had mentioned "keeping an eye on him" because his mother would "half-kill" him if she found out and "completely kill" him if she found he wasn't "doing his duty" in keeping watch over Harry. It was only Harry's understanding of the Higgindobbins family that kept him from being concerned. While having sarcasm and dry wit, both parents showed massive concern for their children's well-being. Harry felt a stirring deep in his heart at the thought that they considered him one of their own. No matter if the Weasleys had done so for a few years now: Harry, while grateful to them, didn't feel as connected with them as he did with the Higgindobbins, and either way it would always be a novel experience after the Dursleys.

Once the doctors' and nurses' exams and questions were over, Harry was free to leave. Even the thought made him jump from his bed and run to the door like the hounds of hell were chasing after him. And he would know, he had seen how intimidating the Peverell brothers were.

Chase calmly stood from his seat, almost laughing at Harry's melodramatic behavior. He followed the other boy out the door, where Harry hovered uncertainly.

"What are we supposed to do?" Harry asked.

"Go back to the cabin. The guys said if they went to do anything they'd leave a note."

"Oh, alright then." Honestly, Harry wasn't expecting such a confident response. He figured Chase would reply with a casual, "I don't know, what do you think we should do?" that Ron might've responded with. It startled Harry, to expect something so Ron-like from Chase, his almost complete opposite. Harry figured it had something to do with the "best friend" category they both hovered nearby. Harry found he didn't connect as much with Ron, but he had known him for about three years now, and Ron had gone on so many death-defying stunts with Harry he could never be replaced.

Chase, on the other hand, he had an instant connection with. He hadn't known him long, and yet he knew how to interact with Chase on a deeper level than Ron. Ron, he had to watch what he said around in case Ron's sensitivities got in the way. Understandable sensitivities, but sensitivities all the same.

Harry decided that he was thinking too much over the issue. Ron could be his "British Best Friend," and Chase would be his "American Best Friend." Along with that, Hermione would be the "Best British Female Friend." He couldn't name his best American female friend, but both Sherry and Alex were close to a sisterly level by now.

As thoughts often do, these musings did not last for more than several seconds. Chase hadn't even walked more than a few steps ahead of him before he came to his conclusions and snapped out of his state of self-induced shock.

As they "moseyed on down" to the cabin (as Alex once said), Harry and Chase made little small talk perpetuated with brief silences that allowed whatever was said to be congested before they continued with their conversation as they had before the pause. It was relaxing, if Harry were honest with himself. Ron would chatter just to chatter, and Hermione's brain processed so much faster than his that she often would move onto the next subject before he understood what she had said to begin with. Don't get him wrong, Ron and Hermione both gave him stimulating conversations that slowly brought him out of his shell, but as a person who had never had anyone meaningful to talk to until he was eleven, it was hard for him to be relaxed in a constant conversation.

Harry didn't like how he seemed to constantly be comparing Chase to Ron and Hermione, but he couldn't help it. They were the only three meaningful friendships he had, and he couldn't help but marvel at how different they were. When he was smaller, he figured every friendship would be the same. He could only look from the outside, and he honestly would rather not look at all if it meant he didn't have to think about the loneliness he felt.

The cabin was empty, as to be expected by the time of day. Everyone was out doing some kind of activity, whether that be canoeing (he'd seen the small figures on the water on the walk up) or learning how to control their first form. The small animal population in camp seemed to have increased dramatically, as the larger forms practiced in clearings nearby.

Harry turned to Chase, "Oh, I forgot to ask. What's your new form?"

Chase looked at him semi-reproachfully. "Harry, did you already forget? You _never_ ask someone what their form is, it's _rude._ "

Harry bent his head. He couldn't believe he'd already forgotten!

"But," Chase continued, suddenly looking more mischievous, "since you're my friend, I _guess_ I'll tell you." He held a dramatic pause, which Harry responded with a drumroll against a nearby headboard like he'd seen some of the others do while at camp. It was fun, he'd give them that.

"I'm a kitsune."

Harry smiled, "Congrats. So, you did continue the family tradition."

Chase smiled, "Yeah, but I don't think anyone would've cared if I didn't. At least I'll have some help learning my form close to home."

Harry snorted, "Close to home? You mean _in_ your home."

Chase rolled his eyes, "You're not funny, you know that?" He only got a grin in response. He huffed, "I know your form is some kind of wild, magical dog, but no one recognizes it."

Harry took the opening for what it was, "Yeah, although I don't know how wild it actually is. I'm a hellhound of some sort."

Chase gaped, "Hellhound? Like the demon dogs in all the movies?" Harry felt a growl deep in his subconscious. " _That_ kind of hellhound?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably, "I guess? You know I don't watch that many movies. But, yeah, I guess I could be a demon dog… in a way." He knew he was mumbling, but he was too uncomfortable to care.

Chase smiled, "Cool! I didn't even know that was an option! Man, I bet that'll be fun!"

Harry was confused, "You're not mad? I just told you I'm a death-based creature? I know Americans are more progressive in their thinking, but you're not bothered by this, even a little?"

Chase looked at Harry assessingly. "I forget how ignorant you are sometimes, you know? As long as you do no wrong with the form, your form has the same rights as you do. 'Innocent until proven guilty,' and all that. No form is considered evil or a bad omen, and as long as the scarier-looking ones don't walk along the street and scare toddlers, no one cares."

Harry was reassured by Chase, but he couldn't help but wonder, _What will Ron and Hermione say? I saw what happened when they though Sirius was a grim, will that be me? Will it be the Chamber of Secrets all over again?_

His magic finally spoke up after so long (he didn't know it could be so quiet and calm for so long, he thought its ADHD would kick in much sooner), _Don't worry about it. If they can't accept you for who you are, then they weren't your friends anyway. We can just hop a plane and fly back and live the rest of our life here._

 _Such words of wisdom,_ Harry replied, _and where were you?_

 _Off in your subconscious somewhere, playing with the new puppy. Man, you must have schizophrenia or something. We have your thoughts, and you talk to me, which can't be healthy since I'm a part of you. Then there's the doggy. And soon there'll be another!_

 _If I'm schizophrenic, then so are all other wizards._

 _Yep, the magic-people are crazy!_ His magic laughed. It started singing to prove it's point. _You are crazy! You are crazy! La-da-da da-da da!_

 _Shut up!_ He laughed back. And yes, Chase looked at him as if he were crazy, staring off into space and then laughing as he was, especially after such a serious topic. Maybe once he caught his breath, he'd tell him what was going on.

 **Chapter is finished!**

 **This is NOT making fun of any mental disorders. This is just a playful interaction between two friends (similar to many interactions between teenagers especially). I can't believe I feel that I need to put that, but there you go!**

 **I think I'm done asking for forgiveness for taking so long. I'll just keep doing it anyway. I have found, though, that the busier I am, the more I try to make room for writing, so hopefully as life picks up I'll be able to update more than I have been. (Doubtful, but hopeful.)**

 **Does anyone else hate how whenever there's an interaction between two girls or two guys, it gets difficult to follow who's doing what, but if the author used their names then the actual writing itself would be awkward? Stupid pronouns.**

 **Valiryo: First, can I say I love that you went so far into it? I didn't think anyone would look so deeply (which I appreciate). I think there was more information on the reason for why other countries do not know of the Americanized magic system in chapter four, but I will probably address it more in later chapters. You even gave me a few ideas to use during those interactions, too, so thank you! Here's a simple explanation for now, though: Some magic CAN'T be used in Europe, so it would be kind of difficult to find out about it if you can NEVER see it. The other details will be addressed in the story later.**

 **Thanks for all the positive reviews, guys!**

 **Published: 9/11/18 (Never forget.)**

 **Review, follow, favorite, whatever suits your fancy.**


	11. XI: Practice Time!

**Disclaimer: People, I am proud to announce- What? No, I'm sure that's not some spam email. It is? Darn it. Still don't own Harry Potter.**

 _Chapter Eleven_

The other boys shuffled into the cabin, soaking wet and laughing about a canoe tipping over. When they saw Harry, they shared a look with Chase, smiled at Harry, asked if he were alright, and walked to their own bunks to find a dry change of clothes.

Chase smiled at the look Harry shot him. "What?" he asked. "We didn't know what your form did to your subconscious, although we figured it had something to do with your panic attack earlier. We didn't want to possibly have you go back to the med-tent so soon."

One of the other boys, Harry didn't see who, snorted. "Yeah. We want to be able to practice, too."

Harry looked at Chase in confusion.

"Well… you see… Sam decided that if we could, we would wait for our first training session, so you could join. We were supposed to go first, but we switched with one of the girls' cabins."

Harry felt like a stinging hex hit his chest. He kept others from getting to practice, and why? Because he couldn't handle people crowding around him? How pathetic was he?

Chase didn't let Harry wallow in self-pity for long. "Honestly, this just means we get first pick at the other activities we can do. Everyone wanted to be first to try out their new forms, and those who didn't get to I think are sulking. All the ones who get to practice will have their adrenaline pumping, and they will probably do all the fun stuff to get rid of the energy. So, we get best choice of activities and we still get to practice!" His smile seemed strained, similar in a way to the other boys' stances, but there was no hostility from any of them. Even the one who made the comment seemed to have done so more in jest and frustration at his lot in life than in negativity towards Harry himself.

Harry smiled apologetically at the others, and that was the end of that.

He had woken up just in time, in fact, because they were about to go to the practice fields.

…

The various practice fields were divided amongst the various animal types. Canines were separate from felines, who were separate from fowls, who were separate from aquatic creatures, who all were separate from "prey." Urban legends claim that one time a cat spiritualist got a little too into her instincts and chased a rat around the camp that people didn't realize was a spiritualist at the time. None of the stories end well for the rat.

Each separate clearing was divided roughly in half. The magical and nonmagical creatures were split incase of any magical backlash from the spiritualists not in control of their new magic.

Veterinarians walked through the various groups, documenting each spiritualist and their creature both for governmental documents and personal ones. The Americans claimed that if one was stuck in their form, there needed to be a way to keep them from being, say, euthanized in the pound. Chase said it was purely for taxation purposes. The vets doubled as instructors for those having issues.

When Harry spoke to the young woman vet, and she learned he was called a hellhound, she just mentioned that they would need to update that file to include what they looked like. All they had down was what was said in mythology and various urban legends. She said it would be helpful if he provided more detailed information either at a local magical animal clinic or if he would write his own book or article to be published. It would give any other hellhound spiritualists a chance to learn about their form, hopefully without the panic attack he dealt with earlier that morning. (Was it just that morning?) It would not be required, but it would be greatly appreciated. When Harry turned to his more intimidating form, she just whistled appreciatively, then continued with her job.

Unlike all the other canids surrounding him, Harry had full control of both his form and his transformations. He spent his time playing with some of the other larger canines that were trying to become more comfortable in their forms. The one he had the most fun with he learned was called an "Akhlut." He looked like a common wolf, but with sleek, thick fur and webbed paws that seemed perfect for swimming in icy waters. His coloration was a black overcoat with a white underbelly and various white and grey spots along his flank. His muzzle was slightly wider than the average wolf, and his limbs far thicker than anything not bred by humans.

The other boy said that the Akhlut was an Inuit magical creature. It could shift forms between an orca, a wolf, and some hybrid of the two. He could only manage his wolf form of the creature, which he claimed meant that when he gained his nonmagical form, it would most likely be an orca. (He actually was Inuit, and his tribe was known for transforming into the Akhlut, so he spoke from experience.)

While in most Inuit tribes the Akhlut was seen as a ferocious monster that hunts humans, the reality was that Akhluts were overly playful, and did not understand their own strength, accidentally killing many people they met. They preferred seafood and herbivores, which the boy joked meant vegans needed to watch out.

As it turns out, young hellhounds could match young Akhluts in both energy and strength.

Harry and the Akhlut (to be clear, Harry couldn't pronounce the boy's name, so the boy told him to call him the Akhlut spiritualist – he was proud to be so) romped around, nipping and chasing and wrestling. No other canine in the clearing was nearly big enough or strong enough to roughhouse with them, so they kept to the edges to stop from stepping on another small animal. (Why did that chihuahua girl keep showing up? It's not like they _meant_ to squish her. And really, her bug eyes needed to be pushed back into her head.)

Once their practice time was up, the budding spiritualists were instructed to wash up and keep out of the way of the next batch of practitioners. The Akhlut made sure to give Harry his 'mirror ID.' (As it turns out, American magicians used mirrors as some form of phone to communicate. Harry noted that he should probably ask Chase for more information.)

Harry was the last of his cabinmates to trickle into the cabin. The others looked exhausted from the magical depletion of such a strenuous activity. While it took almost no effort for an experienced spiritualist to change forms, rookies had to deal with potential magical exhaustion until their magic was used to the strain of changing the nature of the body and/or the magic itself. Harry had been lucky. Death and his three uncles had taught him how to better conserve energy for the transformation as the magical nature of the hellhound form did not bode well with magical exhaustion. Unfortunately, he could not teach the others because it used the hellhound's natural drawing in of magical energies in both the earth and shadows and whatever element they are associated with. In other words, only hellhound spiritualists could use this technique.

It was an almost unanimous unspoken agreement that the boys would wash up and take a nap before dinner that night. However, some of the boys could not even manage to do that, passing out onto their beds in their sweaty gear. These also happened to be the most rancid of the lot, which did not bode well for the girls that typically sat next to them at dinner time.

After Harry had his shower, he found his magic and adrenaline buzzing in his veins. He did not change back and forth often, which was the largest part of the magical depletion of the transformation, nor did he use any of his magical abilities while he practiced. In other words, his magic was bored and would not allow for any naps.

He wandered into the forest once more, pulled by some instinct that made his memory of the nightmare incident at the beginning of camp fuzzy in his head. His magic chattered away, both to him and his hellhound self. Harry was still not ready to merge his consciousness completely with his wilder counterpart's, no matter how comfortable the two were with each other.

Harry passed by the practice fields, listening to the general hubbub and racket of several animals together in a small space.

He wandered farther and farther into the forest until he found a quietly babbling brook. There, he found a large, flat boulder to lay down upon. It was warmed by the sun, pleasant to his lightly aching muscles (Akhluts pack a punch). He rested there, letting his magic dart around the area. It played with the leaves, trying to make them whistle enough to annoy Harry. It then rushed into the brook, making gullies and ripples as it directed the water in various ways opposite of normal. Anything it could play with, it did, until it met something distinctly _alive_ that was neither plant nor one of the various rodents and birds surrounding the area.

Harry jolted up, his magic warning him that something new was there. In front of him, across the stream, was the nightmare from before. It stood calmly – regally, almost. Its magic pushed against his own, nudging an idea that his magic went through with _before_ translating to Harry.

Where Harry once was stood a hellhound. Smaller than the fire horse, but no less intimidating.

The horse bobbed its head. _Greetings, young one,_ a new voice reverberated in the back of Harry's head. _I am the leader of my herd._

Another, squeakier voice joined in. _And I am the chosen representative of The Inferno. Hi!_ The nightmare snorted. A small head popped into view between the nightmare's ears. It had small feathers surrounding the scaled, serpentine head. It reminded Harry almost of the rattle snakes that the Higgindobbins warned him of. Mist, not smoke, puffed from its nostrils.

Harry nodded his head back, not sure how to proceed.

 _We have a proposition for you, young chosen of Death._

Harry's magic nudged an inquiry at the horse.

 _We are in need of a new home, a more secure home. We had to leave our original one. A flood of epic proportions drove in too many aquatic creatures into the area, and it does not look as if it will dry any time soon._ The nightmare's voice reverberated.

 _Water is bad!_ The dragon helpfully replied. _Stops our fires! Too cold! Too wet! Bleh!_ It shook its head funnily.

 _We would like to ask of you your deathly home. We are willing to negotiate and give up some of our amenities._ The nightmare continued as if not interrupted.

The hellhound tilted his head.

 _The nightmares would be willing to allow you to use us as your steeds. We can pull a carriage or be used as war horses. We can travel in much the same way you can, but it will conserve your strength. We do not ask for much; just give us a plot of land with some form of vegetation, and we will forever be in your debt._

Harry turned to the little feathered lizard.

 _I got nothing._ It gave the impression of shrugging its shoulders. Harry couldn't help but snort.

He asked his magic if it could translate, to a feeling of indignation permeating through him.

 _Even if I could, I do not know how. I am sorry._

The horse shook his head. _We doubted so, but we believe you will go to the Realm Between soon. You have much to learn in so little a time. Death will be anxious and hasty. We only ask that you consider, and if possible, ask your mentor for help._

 _Okay, then. I will think on this more later. I will have an answer before I leave this camp._ His magic said. Harry was about to accept, but his magic continued against his will. It spoke only to him, _We can't make promises we can't keep. Wait. Let's see what Death and grandfather and uncles have to say._

The horse nodded its head, making the snaky one above it bob in a delay. _Very well. We shall meet you here when you are ready._

They turned back into the forest, disappearing back into the forest from whence they came.

Harry transformed back. He laid in the sun for a while longer, contemplating how quickly his life had gotten out of hand, with "helpful" comments from both his canine half and his magic.

With a groan from not wanting to get up from his comfy rock but knowing he had to go back to camp, Harry heaved himself up and started wandering back the way he came.

 _You know,_ his magic muttered sleepily, _it's not so bad. We got so much this summer. Can we really complain about where it led us? We're Harry Potter. We're supposed to get into crazy stuff. I like this crazy, though. So much better than Voldemort crazy._

Harry couldn't help but agree.

 **Chapter is finished!**

 **I keep telling myself that the next chapter Harry will gain his next transformation. Oh, well. Maybe next chapter…**

 **yodaslayer: My idea was that whether or not you have a magical form at all was dependent upon if your magic was strong enough, flexible enough, or willing to do so. Whichever form appears first is based on the person's magic's affinity for the transformation, laziness, or if it wants to start or end with a bang. Pretty much, capability is based on skill. Priority depends on magic. Hope that makes sense.**

 **Guest: I don't know if I will bring Sirius into the American spiritualasis or not. I could be lazy and just say that Azkaban stops his magic from performing that function or even that because he learned the European way he can't learn the American way. Beats me. Nico from Percy Jackson actually inspired the shadow travel, but I am not planning on making this a crossover with anything any time soon (if ever).**

 **To all the positive reviewers: Thanks so much! You people are so nice!**

 **Published: 10/21/18**

 **Review, follow, favorite, whatever suits your fancy.**


	12. XII: Puppies and Quilts

**Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter or Little Einsteins. Not going to bother making some goofy disclaimer this time around. Just read the story.**

 _Chapter Twelve_

Today was the day everyone would try to become their secondary form. The boys shuffled into line once again. The only difference was that they were asked whether they had a magical or nonmagical form, although Chase swore the tunics were itchier this time around. The potion they had to take was designed to force their magics to align to the not-as-easy form. It still just tasted like berries, though.

Harry settled into his circle, laying on his stomach like last time. The experienced spiritualists started their chant up once more, and the color-changing smoke covered everyone once more. His magic waved him goodbye, grabbed some magic from the earth, and summoned Death from the flames once more. Those watching the proceedings were not as surprised as last time to see the form enter Harry Potter's circle. And finally, Harry went to sleep once more.

Harry awoke in the now-familiar surroundings of Death's – no, _his_ – mansion. Death sat in its favored chair, Harry's greats to a great power grandfather and uncles lying around him.

"Why not that fog bank like last time?" he asked.

"This is all in your mind," Death replied, "you tell me."

Harry had nothing to say to that.

"Anyway, let's get on with the boring stuff, shall we? Blah blah blah, congratulations. Your new friend is right beside you."

Harry turned to see a great white form shape into being beside him. It was a large dog, Harry could tell. It was tall enough that its head would probably reach past Harry's waist. Its floppy ears gave a strangely puppy-like look to a rather intimidating animal. Its square-ish head reminded Harry of a Pitbull he saw in the news once, although he couldn't remember what for. Its bulkily muscled body had a strange elegance to it, and its tail wagged happily when it saw him.

It whined at him and rested a slobbery head on his lap.

Harry petted the beast, for there was no other way to describe this hulking mass of canine. From what he could see, the only color not white on the dog was a black nose and its pink, gaping maw. Harry turned to Death, preparing to ask what kind of dog this was.

Death lifted a hand to silence him. "I will not tell you what he is. The only reason I told you what your other form is was because no one would have been able to identify it anyway, and you now work for me, so I figured you might like to know why."

Harry could understand that. Even so, "But why won't you tell me?"

"Because half the fun is being surprised!" Death gestured grandly. "But I would suggest that when you go back to England you don't walk around in that form. One of those people you are with this summer can tell you why."

"O-okay…" Harry decided not to ask. Death could be _really_ stubborn if he chose to be.

"Now, go on back to your little camp. I'm sure you don't need to be one of the last ones like last time. After all, early bird gets the worm! Oh, wait. That won't work. Early dog gets the bone! Hm… No, doesn't have the same ring to it… Early dog gets the bird! No, it should rhyme… Early dog gets the hog! There we are! Yes, that works perfectly…" Death muttered to herself. Harry needed to find a good pronoun for Death soon, or he would confuse himself.

Antioch huffed while Cadmus and Ignotus rolled their eyes in obvious exasperation. Death startled at Antioch's sound (if Death _could_ startle). "Oh, yes. Right, right. Have fun figuring it out! Tell your magic I love the black and white color scheme! Bye!"

With Harry's tutors howling in goodbye, Death waved its fingers, and Harry woke up in his bubble, in a great white form. _Well_ that _was 'informational,'_ Harry's magic huffed. _You didn't even need to talk to them! How rude!_

Harry huffed in laughter. _It was nice seeing them again,_ he tried.

 _We saw them, like, yesterday! No point in that whatsoever, I'd say!_

…

Harry wasn't as exhausted by the transformation this time around, and he could feel his hellhound and… dog… personalities playing in the background. Maybe he should consider giving those two their own names sometime soon. He should talk to Sirius about what a good Marauder nickname should be for them. Harry was excited at the potential bonding moment he could have with his godfather.

He sat at the lakeside, waiting on the other boys to either get their forms or wake up from their rest. The rule was that if you didn't transform by sundown, then you were woken up and couldn't try again for another year. Then, your magic might be ready to undergo a second transformation. If you couldn't transform then, it was assumed you could not reach your second form. That was why these ritual sessions were earlier in the morning than the last: Everyone wanted to give you as much time as possible to reach your second form.

Chase wandered over to him. "Hey," he greeted. "Come with me for a second."

Harry shrugged and stood up, wandering over to the other. They circled around the lake, Chase explaining as they went.

"I hope you don't mind not being surprised," he said, "but I know your birthday was coming up, and I wanted to get you something really cool. Unfortunately, I need you there to order it."

"What is it?" Harry asked. "You know you don't have to get me something."

Chase snorted, "I call B.S. on that. Besides, think of it as a 'welcome to America' gift, or something like that. It's a quilt made by the 'Ailey sisters."

Harry thought for a second, "Who?"

"You know, you met them the other day. Hailey, Bailey, Kailey. The triplets with the different hair colors? Their family is well-known in California, and maybe even America, for their quilts. They're magical, see. People think their family was the reason the Ancient Greeks believed in the three fates. Every generation has a set of three triplets, and all the different triplets are seers that work together. Their quilts are designed to change as the time changes."

Harry was intrigued, "Really? That's neat."

"Yeah, everyone knows about them, and their prices are pretty fair, too. I know quilts are lame, but it's tradition to get one in a life-changing year. I… I know this summer probably isn't life-changing for you, but I do want to get you one."

Harry smiled, "I don't know. Learning more about my magic than I ever could back home? Seems pretty life-changing to me."

Both boys smiled, then Chase smirked and said, "No more mushy feelings for today, okay?" He punched Harry's shoulder. It didn't take long for them to get into a play-brawl. They didn't go for too long, but it did reinforce their growing bond.

When the boys reached the opposite side of the lake, there was a sight to behold. A set of boys were being flung as high as possible by an elephant spiritualist. They'd get as close to the water as they could before transforming into birds and flying away.

Some of the other guys in the area were making bets on who could get closest to the water without landing in it. The girls were either giggling or muttering something about "idiots" under their breaths.

Harry and Chase watched the spectacle for a moment, then continued on their quest to find the triplets. The girls were on the fringes of the group, snacking on chips at a bench, and watching the show.

"Hello, girls," Chase said, "I'm here on business matters. Got any time for two ol' boys like us?"

One of them, the blond that had whiter hair than Malfoy, tittered. "Just because we told you we like old western films doesn't mean you'll get a discount by talking like that."

"Darn it," Chase smiled. "Anyway, this is Harry. He's the one I was telling you about."

"Hello, Harry," the blond smiled. "I see you can't remember which of us is which, not that I blame you. My name's Bailey, this one" she gestured to the red-haired girl beside her, "is Hailey, and that one," the dark-haired girl at the end of the line, "is Kailey. Chase said you wanted a quilt?"

Harry nodded, "Nice to meet you, er, again. Yeah, yeah. A quilt."

"Okay, well, I'm the one in charge of new orders, so you came to the right sister." She smiled jokingly and pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen. "Now…" she scanned Harry intently, muttering to himself, "at least six feet long, though preferably longer. Maybe… four to five feet wide? That should work." She wrote some numbers on the paper, tapped the end of the pen against her lip, looked back up at Harry, and wrote a few more.

"So, here's what I can do for you," her tone was all salesman… saleswoman. "You can start off at six feet long, and we can increase in six-inch increments if you so desire. I would recommend seven feet long, maybe seven and a half, but six is workable."

"Why not any less?" Harry asked.

"Your potential height is somewhere around six feet tall. Unfortunately, height is never guaranteed. You could be even several feet shorter or a few inches taller. The minimum amount of feet long we can give you while keeping to our customer satisfaction contract would be your potential height, but we would recommend going a little bit longer than your potential height for maximum comfort. Don't want your toes to be cold, do we?"

"He'll take seven and a half feet long," Chase interrupted.

Bailey regarded him for a moment. "Alright, then. Standard width, unless you were planning on packing on a few more pounds?" She regarded Harry.

"No, no," he assured.

She smiled, "Yeah, I got the feeling you'd say that. You seem to hate the idea of getting too big. Healthy habit, I'd say. Watch out, though. It could become unhealthy if you fixate. I believe the term is… anorexia?" She turned to her sister for confirmation, getting a nod in return. She turned back to her questioning. "For how many years would you prefer this quilt to span?" she asked.

Chase saved Harry from potential embarrassment. "When did you learn about the magical world, again?"

"I was eleven," Harry replied.

"And you become an adult at seventeen, right?" Harry nodded.

"That timeline, please," Chase turned back to Bailey.

She nodded. "Perfect, we recommend timelines of five to ten years whenever possible. Now, we can set the magic in several different ways. We can put so many pieces down that are a set amount of time per year, and which is the most important moment during each set time, we can put so many down, and let the magic decide what is an influential time for you, or let the entire quilt be hidden until after your chosen amount of time has passed."

"Uh…" Harry helpfully supplied. It was too much information too soon that he didn't really understand, anyway. "What's cheapest?" he asked.

"There's no change in price between the first two options, and only ten bucks more for the third. Most of the money is based on the design than the magic. I would suggest," she supplied helpfully, "the second option. Most people enjoy seeing what comes up on their designs over the years rather than wait for the end. And with how much trouble seems to be attracted to you, I'd suggest not setting a specific time span for each piece."

"Okay," he said, "that one then."

"Yes, she muttered, "and it'd be better to do at least two per year, possibly three or four." She redirected her attention to Harry. "It might be better to ask you about that until after you decide the design," she decided.

Bailey pulled out several swaths of cloth. "Okay, now we need to decide your two primary colors. These are the options we have." The pile was larger than one hand could hold. "Anything you were thinking about?"

"Uh… red and gold?" Harry supplied.

She hummed. "Okay, we only have one true gold, here's the different reds we offer." She must have pulled out over ten different swaths!

"Any of these stick out to you?" she asked.

Harry pointed out the Gryffindor red immediately, but couldn't help but stare at a deeper, darker red. There were five others that to Harry looked exactly like it, but he couldn't help but stare at it.

Noticing his hesitation, Bailey pulled out a gold swath of cloth. "Here's a comparison for you." She held the swath against first the Gryffindor red, and then against the darker red. "Which of these do you prefer?"

Harry honestly thought the darker red looked better with the gold, but his house loyalty staid his hand.

"If I may," Bailey interjected. "It's better to go with your gut than your head, sometimes, especially you, from what I can see."

Harry smiled and pointed at the darker red. There was a flash of approval in her eyes.

"Good," she said. "That other combination can really wear on the eyes." She smiled good-naturedly. "Now we decide on design," she said.

"The back is easier to decide than the front, normally," she said. "We normally either do a checkered pattern, a solid in one of your chosen colors, or mostly solid with a muted design. With the gold being this flashy, I'd personally suggest either making the back a solid red or a simple design on the back in the gold."

"What kinds of designs?"

"Our most popular is a vine design, but we also do swirls and waves. I can draw out anything you can think of. Most of the designs are done free-handed, so we don't have anything on hand to compare to."

"Can I see the vines?" The more questions he answered, the more confident Harry became.

The moment he saw the design flow onto a spare piece of paper, Harry knew it would look stunning.

"I'd like that one."

"Okay." She checked off a box on the paper and wrote a note on a line beside it. "Now for the design on the front." Bailey pulled out another several sheets of paper. "These are standard designs, though we can do something else."

Harry and Chase shuffled through the various pictures. The final four options were the standard square design, a stacked circle design, a swirl design that looked like an old-time hypnosis wheel, and a three-dimensional design that looked like it was several windows.

"Nice, nice," Bailey muttered. "I can tell you this, the standard is simpler, but we will need to get several other colors to balance. The circles can look cluttered with how many memory pieces we will need to do, but some people like the complexity of it. The swirl can limit how many memory pieces we can use, but many who get it love the effect it makes. The window design can look off-putting to some with several opposing memories, but others like the idea of looking into different 'windows' of their lives."

Harry thought for a second, before deciding on the window design.

"Great. Now, I would suggest two to three memory pieces per year, depending on how many memories you would enjoy remembering."

"What are memory pieces?" Harry finally asked.

Bailey smiled reassuringly. "Each memory piece will change after a specifically impactful event in your life. It may hesitate to change if you have several events in a row, or not too many memorable ones at all. If that's the case, then the number of pieces determined may wait until the end of each increment – or in this case, when a large patch of time, often a year, after the fact. Now if, for some reason, the customer dies or goes into a coma before the total time span is finished, all the other memory pieces will be filled in. They are never filled in in any order, but there will be none left over at the end of the designated time period. Any questions?"

There was something over-explanatory in all magical Americans, Harry decided. He had zoned out not even a full sentence in her explanation. "No, let's go with three per year."

"Excellent," she muttered, writing and checking more boxes. "Any other recommendations you can think of?"

"No."

"Great, so just a few more odds and ends to finish up." She turned her check marked paper to Harry. "Does this all look correct to you?"

Harry checked it over, and it all looked correct to him, Chase looking behind his shoulder not raising any protest when he said, "Yes."

"Okay, well then we'll need your shipping address, contact information, and payment information." Chase stepped forward to fill things out. "Now please sign here, here, and here." She pointed out the spots, Chase signing as her finger went. "You have one week to contact us with any changes you may desire before you will need to pay extra. Here's a copy of your receipt." She ripped off an attached piece of paper behind the one all the information was filled on, handing it to Chase. "Any questions, please contact us at the information at the bottom of the receipt, and you two have a nice day." She smiled.

"You, too," Chase replied.

The two turned away to trudge back to the spot Harry was sitting at while Bailey turned back to watch the spectacle they had taken her attention away from.

"That was… strange," Harry finally breathed.

"That's how all seers are," Chase said nonchalantly. "They rarely know the entire future, but they know certain things that make most other people uncomfortable. It's kind of understood that there are no guarantees, and anyone who can see the future becomes at least slightly unhinged to the rest of the population to deal with it."

"They are all crazy?" Harry asked. "She was strange, sure, but I wouldn't say crazy."

"No, not like that!" Chase laughed. "More so that there's something… off. Most people can't describe it, but everyone can tell, even themselves. It puts people on edge, but most can accept it. I've heard that some can really be traumatized by what they see, and craziness can result from that, but even those who see completely innocent things can be slightly off. It's mainly a feeling other people get from them, rather than anything wrong with them themselves."

"So, let's say I have a Divination teacher who always predicts my death…" Harry started.

"There's several explanations," Chase shrugged. "They could be seeing actual potential futures, they could be seeing one potential in several different forms and can't interpret it properly, or they could be a complete fraud. Why would you be taking Divination, though? I never pegged you as a seer?"

Harry laughed, embarrassed. "I'm not. I thought it would be an easy class, and the others didn't look like they'd help me later, anyway. Arithmancy is just a numerical Divination, from what I could tell, and I couldn't find any practical applications for Ancient Runes. Muggles Studies would be pointless for me."

" _Those_ were your options?" Chase asked. "Wow. Doesn't sound like you really learned what the courses were about, anyway. I don't know about for Europe, but over here Arithmancy is the study of numbers in magic. Theoretical work, but it explains the belief behind lucky numbers, from what I heard, and why there might be a repeated number of times a… chant, let's say, you have to say in a ritual. I would never take it, personally, because there's no real proof. Magic doesn't work under those types of logics, and for every theoretical rule I've heard of, I've also heard of at least five exceptions. It's like the English language of magic, honestly.

"Ancient Runes could mean a number of things. We have nothing labelled like that over here. It could be the study of ancient, written languages so you might know what ancient artifacts were intended to say. It could also be a study of different ancient symbols that were often carved or written that if you add your magic to, could create an effect without the wizard necessarily knowing what they were casting. Both those options sound specialized to specific jobs to me, though. I don't know what to tell you."

Harry nodded, those were the reasons why he was so reluctant to choose his second elective. After Fluffy in first year and the basilisk incident in second, he knew he wanted to know more about magical creatures, if only to save his own hide. He'd rather not have to rely on another phoenix pecking out a snake's eyes to save him and a magical hat giving him a magical sword, only to almost die from venom. Knowing his luck, other deadly magical creatures would be trying to kill him, too. The second – required – option, though, he could not decide on. None of the options he was given sounded useful to him, so he figured an easy class with Ron would beat trying hard in something that wouldn't help, anyway. He remembered lamenting that there were no healing or dueling classes. Now _those_ would be helpful.

"It's fine. Thanks for the help though," Harry smiled. "You know, over-explaining everything."

Both boys arrived back at their tent that night bruised and muddy, but both supporting smiles.

…

Harry awoke that night back in his mansion. The three hellhound brothers were snoring away in a corner close to the fire, while Death was looking through a picture book and muttering to a nearby shadow. "She'll need to be picked up tonight. Wait for him, I think Fate wants to wake him up once he's off life support. Miracle work, and all that. Ah, Harry! Come sit! Come sit!" Death patted the sofa beside him. The shadow flitted back into the mansion, no doubt to do Death's bidding.

"What can I do for you this fine night?" Death asked.

"I don't know," Harry answered. "I thought I went to sleep."

"Ah, that's the beauty of the Realm Between. Mortals can access it in their dreams under the right conditions. This is your property, so you get to come here. Not a bad gig, if I do say so myself."

Harry nodded along. He was nudged by his magic, reminded of a promise he made. "Oh, yeah. Can nightmares and dragons live here?"

Death hummed, "Not here, per say, but there are paddocks and a forest behind the mansion. Come, I'll show you where."

As they walked through the mansion, Death hummed, "We're going on a trip, in our favorite rocket ship…" Harry decided not to ask.

They walked outside, wisps of fog swirling around their legs. They walked down a path to a shed. It looked strong and steady, although not large enough to hold the entire herd Harry saw the other day.

Death smacked him on the back of the head. "Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" it reprimanded him crazily. "Remember, magic." Its hand brushed against its own temple, tapping as if to reinforce 'Remember.'

They walked into the shed, large barn doors opening without a squeak. There were at least a hundred stalls lining the edges of the room, and a great open space in the center.

"It was designed with the assumption to keep all the horses together whenever possible, like a real herd," Death explained. "As the realm between is ruled by both Life and Death, most of the worries in your world are mitigated. Of course, there are still stalls incase that design was not possible."

"Amazing," Harry breathed. He often forgot the abilities of magic.

Death giggled giddily, "I know! And you still need to see the forest!" It skipped out of the stables.

The forest was looming. Something was off, though Harry couldn't identify it.

"In this forest is one of every species of plant Life ever created," Death explained. Oh, that was why. None of the trees matched, and every few steps the grass would change. "There's also several species of animals, but they stay in the trees or brush they would naturally stay in. The dragons are mini, correct? Perfect for all the squirrels in the area. The forest replenishes naturally, so they won't completely destroy any animal population here."

It was beautiful, Harry would give the morbid being that.

They walked back to the mansion in silence. When they reached the room Harry had spent most of his time in, he noticed that Cadmus was awake. The hellhound yawned in greeting, sharp teeth glinting in the firelight. He didn't bother getting up, seemingly comfortable sandwiched between his brothers, both using him as a pillow. Harry waved in greeting.

The two settled into their seats. Death broke the silence. "You will be able to summon them here fairly easily. Just say something along the lines of 'you are welcome to enter my home in the Realm between,' and they will be transported in the clearing between the forest and the mansion. I will warn you once again, do not bring a human here. Creatures of the mind such as them will _at least_ lose them, probably die as well, but definitely lose their minds."

Cadmus yapped quietly.

Death snapped its fingers. "I _knew_ I forgot something. Thank you, Cadmus." He turned back to Harry. "Because you will be welcoming both types of animals here at the same time, there is an _itty bitty, teeny tiny_ chance that their magical abilities will change. There's no way to tell what until they get here, but still, you might want to mention that to them. Luckily, due to the nature of this place, it will not affect them negatively. If you brought in one, took it back out, and _then_ accepted a new species, nothing would go wrong. If both need to be here at the same time, though, something may change."

Harry nodded in understanding.

 _Phew,_ his magic muttered, _we've got our work cut out for us._

 _I don't know, seems pretty simple to say a few words._

 _Yeah, but only if we can_ find _the herd again! Not to mention we_ must _train the little puppy over here!_

Harry heard a yap in the back of his mind.

 _Yeah, yeah, shut up! Hey, no! Do not pee on that!_

 _What!_

 _Kidding, kidding. No! That is not a chew toy! Harry, this is_ your _fault. I'm the one who helped us decide on the hellhound, but it's because of_ your _personality we got… this! I blame you! A puppy who can throw his weight around? I will never forgive you for this!_

 _Oh, shut up,_ Harry rolled his eyes. _Stop being such a drama queen._

 _Drama queen he says. Magic can have no peace, he says. Oh, thank you, Hell, for sitting on him. Thank you._

 _I leave you to figure it out._ Harry decided.

 _Cheater,_ his magic muttered.

 **Hope the length makes up for how long I left this un-updated!**

 **Mazzax Manacry: Yeah, I just feel like in real life we meet many people we only speak to once, or we talk to several times, but it never goes anywhere. Hermione will learn about the US, but with how much detail I've put into every interaction, I've realized that my original idea of this being a ten to twenty-chapter story went out the window, so it will be a while.**

 **bob19h: Yeah, I get what you mean. Unfortunately, my knowledge about the 'multiverse' is shaky at best, so unless I get some random thought that something can go with what I'm writing, I wouldn't trust my own knowledge to supplement too many Death rants. Also, sorry about the headache. I'd suggest looking at the quotation marks. Almost everything else is either narration or Harry's POV. But I would argue that it's a trying time for Harry, too, and I'd think that if he reflected on his own thoughts, he'd get a headache, as well… If that makes any sense.**

 **Zoran Dawn-Eclipse: If you want to see it that way, I'm not going to stop you, but honestly, if you just search 'Akhlut' on Google, you'll find many images that match up with the hybrid estimation. They all have their own design, but the general concept is the same. Yours works well, too, though!**

 **PrototypeSaber15: While I like the idea, I don't see any need for Harry to be able to at this time. I'd see his abilities more so just darken or lighten shadows where they are, so no real color changes, if I put it in at all, and he won't need to escape the press until he goes back to Britain. Who knows, though? I sure don't. Just writing away, chapter by chapter, going wherever the wind takes me…**

 **Darksnider05: Okay, let me go in order… If you are still reading this. Chapter 2: It's less more advanced and more options, in my mind. Options that are better for Harry. Chapter 3: Harry's a tourist right now, so most people would be reluctant to paint their country in a bad light for visitors. It'd be like having a guest over at the house and lamenting about everything wrong. You'd laugh off anything that goes wrong in their presence, or ignore it, and move on. Chapter 4: It's less of a vacuum and more along the idea of ley lines (can't remember if that's canon or head canon…). The magic's just congregated there. I have more explanations ahead (if I can fit them in), but I already add too much detail as is, so I'm trying to space it. The transportation issue will be explained, I promise. Chapter 5: Technically (can't remember if it was books or just movie), Snape killed Dumbledore, and I doubt it was with 'murderous intent.' Plenty of fanfictions use this idea, it's not original. Also, that was canon in the 30s-40s (I'm thinking this 'canon' you speak of is the Fantastic Beasts movie, neither of which I've seen yet). Plenty can change in that time span. Finally, I respect your opinions, but this is fanfiction, and if there's as much 'cringe' for you as you say there is, why did you go five or more chapters in? Seems almost masochistic to me. But hey, your life, your decisions. Don't let me stop you.**

 **serenityselena: Of course not, wouldn't be a story if it was!**

 **HerderOfTheStones: Wow, um… I'm flattered. I'm trying to continue this and complete it. My suggestion would be to continue reading, and uh… experiment with stories you don't mind ruining for yourself…? That's kind of what I did before I made a first chapter of a story I could be proud of. Thank you.**

 **Okay… Lots of responses for this last one. Hope I didn't miss someone… Thanks to all the positive reviewers! Hope none of my decisions on where to take this story ruin it for you!**

 **Anyone who wants to make suggestions for what is most influential for Harry each year is welcome to do so! I only have a vague idea, and mostly for first year.**

 **Published: 11/24/18**

 **Review, follow, favorite, whatever suits your fancy.**


	13. XIII: Headache

**Disclaimer: Besides the copies of the books on my bookshelf, I own nothing.**

 _Chapter Thirteen_

Their cabin got to go first on the practice fields today, and Harry found that his new form was a morning… dog. He didn't get to roughhouse with the Akhlut the next morning like he did when they practiced in their magical forms. The boy had been correct: His nonmagical form was an orca, so he was with other marine-bodied forms. Instead, Harry and a group of other nonmagical canines played together.

Although he was larger than many of the other dogs, and his bulk eclipsed many of the ones that towered over him, Harry found that his playful nature did not make him naturally over-aggressive with the other dogs. Rather, he found himself "pulling his punches" whenever he met with another dog. He'd bat his front paws playfully, but never hit anyone. He'd open his great maw as wide as could be, and yet he never snapped it closed when it covered another dog.

There was one that kept coming back to him, a small dog of unknown breed, that he would cover his mouth over whenever she got too rambunctious, as if to swallow her, only to breath and remind her she _wasn't_ the big dog on campus (literally). She still kept on coming back for more, for whatever reason. He and a golden retriever that got along decently agreed it was probably small dog syndrome.

This form was more difficult to switch between than his hellhound form. If it got excited, which seemed to be any time another dog or person came up to him (and because he was practicing where he was, that was every second), his tail would wag too hard and he'd _forget_ to even try to change back.

When the registrar finally reached him, the man checked his dimensions and referred to a book that was standard (because there were too many dog breeds in the world to remember them all) and proclaimed Harry to be a "Dogo Argentino." At a request from Harry, the man explained that it was a dog bred in Argentina to be a hunter of big prey, yet be easily capable of becoming a family dog that was never aggressive towards humans. The puppy in his mind whined at the thought of hurting anything that was considered pack. Harry still wasn't certain what Death was warning him about.

…

In the lessons they took previously in the week, Harry knew that his two forms would merge themselves together over time first before merging with himself later on. Without the merge, the spiritualist was in danger of developing multiple personality disorder. If the spiritualist did not start with having split personalities, however, the animal instincts would drive that person to insanity. In other words, while the transformation rarely went wrong (as in, once every several hundred years wrong), when it did go wrong, the spiritualist was the one to suffer for it.

Harry was fairly certain that he was already suffering, anyway.

His magic, already antagonistic, got along swimmingly with his hellhound form. With his Dogo form, not so much. Any time Harry was not transformed into the great, white dog, he could hear the two arguing in the back of his head. Well, his magic was arguing; Harry was fairly sure his puppy form thought the magic was playing with it, yipping at and antagonizing it further. The shouting his magic did at the puppy, Harry was sure, was probably heard without being an auditory-based magical sensor. He could almost feel the magic pulsing along his skin, aching to be used volatilely.

Whenever the two eventually woke his hellhound form up (turns out, the oh-so-scary canine was a couch potato that slept worse than the dead), it would growl menacingly. Rarely did the other two seem to hear it, forcing the most mature out of the three to bark threateningly. They would quiet, and the hellhound went back to sleep.

The moment Harry sighed in relief was the moment the two went back at it. Let's just say, Harry was _tired_ and couldn't wait until the puppy integrated with it's not-nearly-as-noisy counterpart.

Harry stumbled from the shower room he was using after practice. The effort of changing back and forth while having a puppy's attention span was far greater than any Quidditch practice, he was certain. His head was pounding at the fighting in his head. The migraine was so great, in fact, he didn't notice the man in front of the door until he was already bumping into him.

"Sorry," Harry muttered.

Harry heard a grumble, and a warm, soft yet calloused hand landed on his head. Harry nearly leaned into the warmth that soothed his headache, however minutely.

"Come," the man muttered, and Harry was too tired to do nothing but follow.

They reached the med-tent, and Harry almost whined at the thought of having to go back in there. He hated hospitals. Why was he here?

The man situated Harry in a room with a single bed, shuttering the windows closed and turning off all the lights. The room's darkness lessened the pounding in his head enough that Harry finally noticed who led him there: the man who gave the introductory speech to camp when everyone first got there, "Red Chief," according to his magic.

He held in one hand some kind of cloth strip, a steaming Styrofoam cup in the other. He handed the cup over to Harry, and gestured for him to turn around. Harry did so reluctantly, only for him to almost relax, boneless, as the man wrapped the cloth around his forehead like a ninja, tying it in the back. When the man was done, Harry turned back to him.

"Drink," the man muttered softly. Harry found that his low rumble soothed his head as much as the man's warm hand did. "It's peppermint tea. Medicine will not soothe the animals inside, but we have found that relaxing the human body releases at least some of the migraine. Stay in here for the rest of today and tonight, if you are feeling better, you can go back to your cabin. Someone will bring you food from the mess hall, unless you would like to rely on a friend to do so. I will get in contact with your cabin's councilor, and he will send one of your bunkmates up to help you settled in, if you would like?" He looked to see Harry's nod. "Good. What is the name of your councilor?"

"Sam," Harry muttered.

"Sam," the man grumbled. "Very well. Is there anything you need before I go?"

Harry shook his head.

"Remember, keep the hot pack on your head until it cools off. Then, you can have a nurse bring you another, or you can just relax in here. We will try to keep things quiet in here for you, and I would suggest trying to sleep it off. I find it helps to let the spirits settle in on their own terms."

The man nodded at him, then left, closing the door softly behind him.

Harry sipped at his tea in the dark, leaning back on the pillows and trying to relax. His magic and the puppy were still going at it, but without the added influx of sensory information, Harry found that his headache was slowly lessening.

Harry found that he liked the tea, even if it wasn't as strong as what he was used to.

He turned at the door creaking open. Chase shuffled in, obviously trying to stay quiet. It was so dark Harry could barely see his outline. "Hey," he whispered, sliding into a chair beside the bed.

"Hello," Harry whispered back. "What are you doing here?"

"Checking up on you. Sam said your forms were being… overwhelming?"

Harry huffed tiredly. "More like my magic does not get along with my nonmagical form. It just gave me a minor headache."

"Yeah, I've heard that it's actually somewhat common. There's just too much going on at once. It should be gone by the end of the day, though."

"I hope so. I hate it in here. What's the point of going to summer camp if all you do is stay in the sick bay?"

Chase's outline shrugged its shoulders. "Beats me, man. Do you want anything? One of my friends gets chronic migraines, so I know even the small ones can be horrible."

"No, I'm good." Harry looked down, then back up at Chase. "You don't need to stay here, you know. Go outside, have fun. I'm about to take a nap, anyway."

"I don't mind staying here with you," Chase muttered, "but if you're going to sleep, I'll leave you to it. You want me to get you some lunch?"

"Not right now, but maybe later?" Harry couldn't help the hopeful inflection of his voice.

"Sure, any preference?"

"No, just, maybe something soft? I don't think I could chew anything and not have my head explode."

"Deal," he could hear Chase's smile. "Then I'll leave you to it."

The door clicked shut behind him, and Harry settled down on top of the bed, the blankets and comforter under him.

 _I hate being here,_ he thought, then drifted off to sleep.

…

Harry stayed in the med-tent all day, sleeping off his headache. He woke twice, once for lunch, and once for dinner. Chase stayed with him throughout the meals, eating with him, then would take the plates back to the dining hall.

Harry found the two reasons for his headache slowly settling down as the day passed. Finally, the puppy drifted off to sleep and his magic huffed down. Even so, Harry stayed in the med-tent overnight to sleep off the lingering headache. Harry learned that day that migraines make him sleepy, which reinforced his need to never get one again. He hated sleeping the day away when he could be doing other things, especially if it landed him in the _med-tent_.

…

Harry sat with the other boys at breakfast, almost feeling hyper from all the extra rest he got. The two nuisances in his head ( _yes, you are a nuisance,_ was directed towards his magic) had finally settled down.

They had two days left of camp to do activities. There would be one final lecture on what to do now that they were spiritualists, but other than that, the rest would be almost like a normal summer camp.

Sam told them that besides the lecture and meals, they were free to do whatever activities they wanted, and they were posted throughout the camp.

Harry and Chase rushed to the canoe races that they missed earlier. Their enthusiasm for the event flipped their boat over, and they had to swim the rest of the way from the middle of the pond, dragging their canoe along. Somehow, they still got third place.

Not even bothering changing, they went to do other outdoor activities, letting the sun dry them off rather than a towel. Their shoes still made suspicious squishing noises, even hours after their unplanned swim.

The obstacle course was Harry's favorite. It held many of the classic elements, but there were certain portions that had to be done in a spiritual form (as long as one was not too big). Harry did so in the Dogo's form, the hellhound snoring away in the back of his mind.

Lunch was a rowdy affair, all the boys hollering over each other to describe their chosen activities. An unplanned food fight broke out (started by a table nearby), so the entire camp spent the rest of the day cleaning the entire hall, yelling jokingly at each other for who was at fault, and who won. Sam claimed he wasn't pleased, but another councilor's spaghetti wig and the amusement in his eyes told the true story.

After the cleanup, there was barely a half an hour left before sundown, so with a quick promise to a suspicious Chase that he would be back before dark, Harry trekked into the forest.

It didn't take him long to find the brook he met the nightmare and miniature dragon the other day. Luckily, they were there waiting for him.

 _Have you thought about our proposition?_ The nightmare asked.

 _I have,_ Harry hovered. _But… but if I do, there's a possible catch._

 _A catch? What catch? I love playing catch!_ The dragon's head bobbed excitedly.

 _I don't really know what it is… exactly,_ Harry hedged. _A warning more than anything. If both the nightmares and the-the Inferno are on the… property… at the same time, your magics might… change? Death wasn't too clear on that._

The nightmare shook its head, almost sending the dragon flying into the forest. _I cannot speak for the dragons, but we have no where left. Soon, we will need to leave this place and risk our own deaths and destructions. We are willing to try almost anything, if you will still let us._

 _We're fine with it!_ The dragon squeaked.

Harry breathed in and out deeply. He whispered, "Then, all nightmares and dragons you represent are welcome to enter my home in the Realm Between." Harry knew Death said it didn't have to be verbatim, but he'd rather do it right than guess.

The two animals nodded their heads towards Harry, the dragon looking silly because it already looked like it was bowing from the nightmare's nod. _We will go tell our brethren, then be off. Thank you,_ the horse muttered.

 _Yes, thank you!_

With a huff in farewell, they disappeared back into the forest.

Harry trotted back to the campsite. He met up with Chase at the forest's edge.

"You finish what you needed to get done?" the boy asked.

Harry nodded, and they went to the campfire.

…

Harry settled in bed that night exhausted, but happy. Tomorrow would be their last day there, and Harry was looking forward to going back. He loved it at camp, but he was ready to be back in the Higgindobbins' hospitality. He would say it was almost home, but he wasn't quite ready for that. Either way, it would be good to see everyone again.

 _Hey, Harry?_ his magic muttered.

 _Yeah?_

 _I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let the mangy mutt get to me. I'm sorry for causing you pain._

Harry felt the Dogo Argentino whimpering in agreement. He felt such love, then, that it almost overwhelmed him. If it wasn't for the fact that neither were truly merged with him, he would think himself narcissistic. As it was, Harry knew, at that point, without a doubt, he loved his three companions that shared his mind. They were not him, not yet, and they had to learn themselves before becoming one. Even then, his magic would forever be as it was with him: a companion closer than any other could be.

 _I'm glad you both could work out your differences. I forgive you. Let's let bygones be bygones, okay?_

 _Okay. Still, we're sorry._

Harry slept well that night, dreaming with the other three consciousnesses. None could remember quite what they dreamed about the next morning, but they all agreed that they finally felt at peace with all their other parts, and that was enough.

 **Honestly, wasn't planning on making this conflict until I started writing this chapter. Hope it wasn't too confusing. Wanted it to be a little longer… Oh well.**

 **Kris-B71854: Love that you got so into it. I'll try to go in order. Yes, it is the summer after third year. Honestly, I forgot about the Dursleys. Guess I was just like 'hey, they always ignore him and him then, why bother going any farther?' You actually gave me some great ideas, so thank you for that. No planned pairings. If I do anything about him noticing girls, it will be somewhat like the books where he _notices_ their beauty, but doesn't actively think about it. Your assumption about Chase is correct. The thing is, Harry is so socially awkward, he doesn't understand his friendship connections all that well, and so he has to compare what he's feeling to what he knows (or that's what I'd think would happen). The fact that its occurring so fast has him questioning it further than he would normally… if that makes sense. I like your thought process about the secret service, but I can't say anything for sure. Because the dragons and nightmares are in the Realm Between, I doubt Harry would risk his godfather's magic changing even if he could go there as a grim. And that's what the whole seer information was for. Glad you like it! Hope I can keep it up.**

 **dragons9: No planned pairings. Honestly haven't gotten that far as to think about custody battles and the like.**

 **setokayba2n: You'll just have to see. Mwahahaha. Actually, I'm not sure what I'll do about the ghosts, yet. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.**

 **Svenion: The whole quilt thing somewhat reflected on how I perceive shopping for something new that's customizable. Too many options, and the person that's helping me both knows so much that it both helps and hurts. And yes, I overexplain things anyway. I'm trying… Honest!**

 **VizeerLord: I'm guessing you're talking about for the characters? Harry will be the one consistent one, so it's the only one I have up. Here's a new chapter for the "more please."**

 **Nocte Furorem: You got it!**

 **bob19h: Oops… my bad. Hope this chapter helped…?**

 **And for all the other positive reviewers: Thank you!**

 **Published: 1/6/19 (My new year's resolution is to put "2019" instead of "2018." I've already given up on it; I know I'll fail until June.)**

 **Review, follow, favorite, whatever suits your fancy.**


	14. XIV: Guard Dogo

**Disclaimer: You still think I'm trying to claim this as mine? Really?**

 _Chapter Fourteen_

It was finally the time to leave the campgrounds. Kids were scattered around, bags in hand or sitting by their feet. Mirror IDs were exchanged, and the quiet roar of conversation buzzed through the air as newly made friends said their goodbyes.

Harry stood beside Chase, both talking with the Akhlut spiritualist. The two American boys had already traded mirror IDs and were showing Harry how they worked.

"There's multiple kinds," Chase was explaining, "and different brands have different phrases to answer. It all depends on preference."

"Yeah," the Akhlut piped up. "Mine goes around my neck like this, so I don't have to worry about burying it in the snow back home. Watches are impractical if you're always going up to your elbows in work."

"Mine's in my wrist watch," Chase continued. "It's not as big, but it's more inconspicuous. See, you open it like this, it's a normal watch." He flipped the top bottom up (like most watches). It had silver on black numbers, and a digital clock in the center under the clock's hands. "But if I flip it like _this,_ " he closed the top, then flipped the cap top down, "I get my contact mirror." The simple mirror – or mirrors, as the case was – covered the watch-face portion and the back of the cap. "There's multiple features, the best of which is probably this." Chase grabbed the knob on the side of the watch that normally moved the watch hands and turned it. The mirror on the watch face lifted from its placement in the watch, hovered, then grew in size. Chase kept turning the knob until the end, upon which the mirror was roughly the size of a hand, hovering over Chase's wrist. "Makes face-time so much easier." He pressed the knob in, and the mirror jumped back into the watch face, shrinking as it went.

"There's always separate instruction manuals," Akhlut said. "The different brands have such different features, people normally choose one and stick with it. There's a limited number of enchantments they can have, so the companies really don't compete with each other when it comes to the quality of features."

"Honestly, my sister probably knows more about the different options than I do," Chase shrugged. "I just care if it makes calls. She and her friends all obsess over the different features."

The Akhlut looked up, "Oh, here's my ride. See you guys later." He stepped through the portal that had just opened in front of him. With a wave, the portal closed behind him.

Chase looked over at Harry, "Mom should be sending a portal through soon."

Harry hummed. "You think I could just Shadow Travel?"

Chase thought for a second. "Maybe. It's probably safer to try now when we can help you rather than if you need it in an emergency or you're back in Europe. Ooo… Make sure to scare Sherry! That'd be awesome! She's always so calm!"

Harry laughed. "Okay, then I'll follow after you."

Chase left through a portal soon after, smiling cheekily at his family on the other side. He let the portal close to reprimands from his parents.

Harry backed into a shadow, letting its chill consume him. He then let warmth once more cover his body, in a new space. As his ears emerged, he heard gasps, both of surprise and of Chase trying to regain his breath.

Harry opened his eyes to the Higgindobbins blinking at him, Sherry having jumped behind older brother Brandon in an effort to get away.

"Priceless!" Chase finally heaved out.

"Chase Miles Higgindobbins! You could have warned us!" Mrs. Higgindobbins raged. Mr. Higgindobbins burst into laughter, followed closely by Brandon. The girls glared at them all.

"Not funny," Mandy muttered.

Harry grinned sheepishly. He thought it was funny, but the girls scared him. It didn't help that his magic was screaming, _Danger! Danger! Do not engage! I repeat! Do not engage!_

Mrs. Higgindobbins smiled at Harry. "I'm sure there's a story behind that, but I think your family has already missed you for a week. You should get going. Got all you brought?"

Harry nodded nervously. When offered the chance to come, Harry had to assure Mrs. Higgindobbins the Dursleys would be fine with him leaving for a week. It wasn't suspicious to leave his family for less than twenty-four hours. It was summer; many families let their children run around without supervision when they were old enough. An entire week? Mrs. Higgindobbins would've become suspicious if Harry hadn't gotten permission. (Not to mention, it was illegal for her to sign Harry up without guardian consent.)

Harry forged a letter from the Dursleys. He had learned his lesson this past year. And when Hogwarts accepted a permission slip signed by _Sirius Black_ , "murderer" of his parents, Harry realized they just wanted a signature. No one would look too closely at _what_ the signature looked like.

It was fine. He left them a letter if they for some reason needed him.

Mandy smiled kindly at Harry. "I'll take you. I've got my license; no need to risk the magical travel with no-majes."

With quick goodbyes from the Higgindobbins at their backs, along with suspicious snickers, Harry and Mandy got into Mandy's old beater car. Harry figured it was held together by magic, it was so – _ahem_ – run-down. Harry normally either rode the bus or in Brandon's nicer car when he traveled with or from the Higgindobbins; he didn't know what to expect from Mandy's driving abilities. The car would probably be better once they got in.

Harry was wrong. The entire ride down the shuddering car threatened to break down. Mandy's driving skills were subpar, at best. Harry suspected the car wasn't originally a beater, but with Mandy's driving abilities, well, best try to get a ride from Brandon next time.

Mandy cursed at the other drivers on the road. One hand was perpetually always raised in a fist, or another gesture Harry wouldn't repeat, at the other people on the road. Music crackled from the old radio. Harry hung on for dear life.

Good times. Good times. And Harry thought Quidditch matches could get dangerous.

Harry was dropped off with little fanfare. He inspected his hotel room, finding nothing disturbed. He had left a "Do Not Disturb" sign on his door, so the room was just as messy as when he left. Even his letter to the Dursleys was left alone exactly where he left it.

Harry hummed in boredom. He wouldn't go out and do anything: He didn't have too much American muggle cash, and he wanted to avoid the magical sector until he could have his guides (the Higgindobbins) saving him from social faux pas. He had learned so much from them, yet he seemed to still insult people without meaning to. He wasn't hungry; the camp gave them breakfast before sending them off. Harry hummed noncommittally. Anything he could think of sounded so _boring_. His magic and forms were no help. The two pups slept soundly in his mind, and his magic felt as lifeless as he himself did.

Harry finally settled on watching the telly. None of the provided programs provided any entertainment to the bored young man, but he stared listlessly at it for the next several hours, until supper. If anyone asked what he had watched, Harry could honestly not recall.

Harry groaned to his feet, thinking he'd grab a bite to eat at the mall. He had some bucks on him, and he still hadn't tried all the cuisine offered. He shuffled over to his bags, grabbing his new wallet. Harry counted out what he had, finally determining that he wouldn't need to stop by the ATM.

Harry stepped out of the room, only to bump into something squishy. He jumped away and turned to see Uncle Vernon turning puce in front of him.

"Boy," Vernon tried to say neutrally.

"Uncle Vernon," Harry replied.

Harry quickly shuffled around his "family," who seemed to be preparing to go out for dinner, as well. Harry could see American fast food and portion sizes made Dudley grow by a much larger percentage than he ever had before in the same amount of time. Now he had four chins, and Harry could honestly say that if he cared, he would be worried if Dudley would survive to adulthood. Dudley had a lollipop stick sticking out of his mouth. His Aunt Petunia was dressed to impress with a gaudy flowery summer dress and a corsage on her head. Harry decided not to ask. Uncle Vernon stood in his second-best suite, probably because he didn't want to seem like he had only the one to whoever they were eating with.

Harry was quick to leave before his uncle gave him a lecture over not being seen for the month. He didn't want the Dursleys to ask about the clothes that were newer and nicer than anything they'd seen him in fitted on his body.

Harry walked over to the mall, looking at all the sights. He had seen them every time he came, but there was always something new to see. He saw a little girl sniffling on the sidewalk ahead. He looked around for her mother, but no one seemed to be with the girl. Many pedestrians stepped around her, some noticing her but not wanting to deal with it for whatever reason, and others not even noticing her.

Harry walked over to her and knelt beside her. "Hello," he smiled.

"Hi," she sniffled back. "I'm not allowed to talk to strangers."

"Okay," Harry shrugged, but he honestly didn't know what to say or do. He couldn't leave her here, but she needed to find her guardians. He looked around. "Wouldn't you at least like to sit down on something more comfortable than the ground? That bench over there sure looks comfy."

She sniffed again, then nodded, rubbing her eyes cutely. She pushed herself up on her feet and shuffled over to the bench. When Harry tried to sit on the other side of the bench, she shied away. Harry didn't feel comfortable standing and staring at her. He felt a shift in the back of his mind. Oh, that's what he would do.

Harry ducked into an alleyway, looking around for anyone to see him and watching the little girl cautiously. This could either go really well or really horribly. He just hoped she liked dogs.

A Dogo Argentino trotted out of the alleyway, panting happily. Dogo-Harry stepped around the bench to face the little girl. Her head was in her hands, her tears having begun anew. Harry huffed and whined at her. Blue eyes cautiously peeked from between her fingers. "Doggy?" she whispered.

Dogo-Harry's tail wagged hard enough to hit his sides. He huffed softly at her. She tentatively reached out to pet him. He made no sudden movements that could frighten her. Her fingers brushed along his head. She giggled. "Doggy!"

Harry panted happily, then nudged her hand before jumping onto the bench beside her, laying his head on her lap and wagging all the while.

"Silly doggy!" the girl exclaimed. Harry could physically _smell_ the difference on her. He liked happy-little-girl smell, he decided, and he really disliked sad-little-girl smell.

They sat there for what must've been over an hour, the girl happily playing with his ears and jowls. He playfully nipped at her, making sure to never actually bite her. Any time she seemed to focus back on her situation, Harry would nudge her with his head, or place his paw on her lap, or do something cutesy. Harry decided he enjoyed making the little girl smile. His now outer puppy loved keeping this little girl happy.

It was getting dark when a figure seemed to focus in on the little girl all by herself. Harry knew they were being watched for quite a while, he just hoped it was a good-doer doing the watching. Harry also knew he wasn't that lucky.

The man didn't seem all that menacing. His face and hair were clean. His clothes, while casual, looked comfortable and practical. His posture reflected nothing other than a concerned adult. Harry didn't like him instantly.

"Hello, sweetie," the man smiled at her.

"Hello," she said back shyly.

"Where's your mama? You're not lost, are you?"

"I-I can't talk to strangers."

"I'm not a stranger. My name's John. See, now come with me and let's find your mom. I saw her not too long ago; I bet we could catch up to her if we leave right now."

"You know where Mommy is?"

"Of course. C'mon." The man reached for the little girl's arm. Dogo-Harry growled and snapped at the offending limb.

"Doggy?" the girl asked. Harry brushed along her side, as if reassuring her he knew what he was doing. He sat up, slightly shifting so his paws rested on her opposite side, his body shielding her from the man.

The man must've missed how large Harry was. His size dwarfed the little girl. His head must've taken up the same amount of space as her entire torso. And this big puppy did _not_ like something threatening his new charge. His hackles raised as he bared his teeth at the man. The man snarled and went to drag the girl out from under Harry. Harry snarled and grabbed the man's arm, latching on and shaking violently. The man was little more than a toy under Harry's surprising strength.

The man finally disengaged, if only because Harry refused to be dragged from his self-appointed charge. The man snarled, and Harry snarled right back. He started barking, hoping to get someone's attention who would get in contact with the police. The man glanced around, realizing that too much attention was on him. He snarled at Harry once more, then darted away into the crowd. Harry gave one last warning bark before turning his attention to the little girl.

"Doggy? That was scary," she practically whispered. Harry whimpered back at her in agreement, then darted forward to start licking at her face. She squealed and pushed back at his face. "Bad doggy! Bad doggy! No! Stop!" She squealed in laughter again.

Harry finally calmed back down, and settled himself back where he had been before, although maybe _slightly_ more on her than he was originally. She might've huffed out something about "Heavy doggy," but that might've been his imagination.

Even with so much attention on the girl, Harry still stayed aware of his surroundings. He noticed one woman on her phone, and he caught enough of the conversation to know she called the police.

Settled back in a relaxed state, it didn't take too long for a black-and-white car to roll up in front of the pair. A police man stepped out and walked over first to the woman who called to hear the situation from her, then walked over to the pair. He sat on his heels, seeming smaller than the girl or Harry on their seats.

"Hello, sweetie," the police man smiled. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Abby."

"Well, Abby, can you tell me your last name?" The man was kind. While Harry was still tense from the last confrontation, he knew he could trust him. Harry would watch him, though, just to be safe.

"Johnson."

"And where's your mom, Abby?" He took notes diligently on a pad of paper.

"I don't know!" the girl suddenly wailed. Harry was quick to quiet her with whimpers and soft woofs, nudging into her stomach with his nose. She giggled at his impromptu tickles.

"Well, Abby, I'll make sure to find your mommy, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you."

The man smiled kindly, then went back to his car to phone someone, but not before patting at Harry's head.

Not even a minute later, the man returned, saying, "Someone's looking for your mom, now, Abby." He looked down at Harry. "I see you've got yourself a protector. What's his name?"

Abby shrugged. "I dunno. He just showed up."

The man's countenance didn't change, but Harry could smell the surprise.

"Really? Then he must be a very good dog."

Abby nodded resolutely. "He pro-proke-ek-ed me."

The police man stayed with them for a little while longer, until Abby's mother came in another cop car.

"Abby!" the woman cried. "Don't ever scare me like that again! What happened?" Harry shuffled off the girl before her inconsolable mother could potentially glomp him on accident. Harry doubted she even noticed him as she pulled her daughter into her arms, muttering and crying in utter relief.

Harry caught the stray end of the cops' conversation, "Yeah, now we just gotta catch that man. Doubt we'll be able to, though. No one got a good look at him."

Harry sniffed around him. Yep, he still smelled the odor of utter _wrongness_ the man gave off. Harry shuffled off the bench, stretching out the kinks in his legs with a great rendition of upward dog. He then trotted up to the two police officers, grabbing the original's pant leg. Harry tugged, looked up at the man, darted down the way the perpetrator went, then came back. He had to repeat a couple of times, but finally the man willingly followed, asking his associate to phone for help.

Harry kept his head down as he followed the scent trail, the police man at his heels. Harry finally reached the entrance to an apartment complex, only to be stopped at the door by the doorman.

"I'm sorry, sir, no pets allowed."

"We're on a trail here, kiddo. Let the dog do his job."

"Yessir," the man hastily shuffled away, holding the door open for the two. Harry jumped inside, his senses going crazy at the closeness of the man.

They made it into the elevator, then had to stop on each floor so Harry could sniff for the man. It wasn't until the fourteenth floor (or thirteen, as the case was, there was no thirteen button) Harry smelt the man again. He barked, then led the cop down the hall to about halfway. The man pulled out his cell phone and called for backup, petting Harry behind his ears in such a way that calmed the dog until the help arrived.

Harry stayed back as they went through the necessary procedures. When the police busted through the doors, all was silent. They shuffled inside, guns at the ready. Harry jumped at the sound of gunshots firing, followed by a short shuffle and minor cursing. He ducked his head in and saw the suspect handcuffed, the police leading him towards the door and reading him his rights. Bullet holes dotted the carpet, but it didn't seem that anyone was hit.

The police officer he led came up to him, petting him on his head once more. "Good boy," the officer praised.

Harry was led back to the little girl, where she gave him a cheerful goodbye and left with her mother. The officer brought Harry to his car, urging him to hop in. Harry wasn't too graceful, but he stuck to landing. He was brought to the police station while the officer said something about looking for his owner. He laid down in the man's office, not bothering with the water left out for him.

Officers shuffled in, many females and a few males coming in to pet him. Dogo-Harry liked the praise. Human-Harry was glad he could escape this when he figured out how to get out of this.

One of the visiting officers talked jovially with the original. It wasn't until Harry heard something about him that he started paying attention. "Good thing we're not in England!" the man offhandedly remarked. "I think he's illegal over there."

"What? No way."

"I'm not kidding you, man. I know I heard most dog breeds that look like him aren't supposed to be kept over there."

"I don't believe you."

"Look it up, man. I guarantee it."

Typing was heard at the computer. "Well, would you look at that? 'Dangerous Dog Act of 1991.' Outlaws the ownership, breeding, and sale of Pit Bull Terriers, Japanese Tosas, Dogo Argentinos, and Fila Brasileiros. Huh. Well, I guess he _could_ be considered dangerous, but only to those who threaten little girls. Poor dogs. Seems kinda strict to me."

Harry stopped listening. He was _illegal?_ In his own _home country? Oh, the irony!_

Finally, a middle-aged man appeared at the door, escorted by one of the secretaries. "Sir? This man came for his dog."

"Ah, yes! You have his paperwork?"

After much legal talk and specifics about how the man shouldn't let Harry get out again, the man took Harry from the officer's hands. Harry would've freaked out, if it weren't for his magic. _He's magic,_ it whispered. _Must be one of those people they talked about at camp. You know? The ones that make sure you're not stuck in the pound?_

They stopped at a quiet spot nearby out of the way of any cameras. "Okay, Mr. Potter," the man turned professional. "You may change back now."

Harry shifted back nervously. He didn't know what to expect.

"You know, it's amazing that you can get into such deep _crap_ before it's even twenty-four hours, you know that?"

Harry bowed his head.

"Good job, kid," the man continued. "You need to come with me. We have a little more we need to discuss." The man opened a portal, gesturing for Harry to go through, first.

They reappeared in what Harry assumed to be the man's own office. "Am I in trouble, sir?" he finally broke.

The man studied him. "No, not yet, anyway." Harry's shoulders slumped. "But we do have much to discuss. Have a seat."

Harry shuffled into one of the seats, the man sitting on the other side of the desk. He shuffled some paperwork from a folder.

"So, Harry Potter. Born July thirty-first, 1980 to parents Lily and James. English magical and no-maj citizen. 'Boy-Who-Lived.' Defeater of Voldemort. Currently attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and on vacation with your relatives, the Dursleys. Impressive resume, I gotta say, kid." He placed his stack of papers back down on the desktop. "Let's start with that first, the Dursleys. What do you think of them?" He folded his hands under his chin.

Harry sweated. This was a trick question, right? "Sir?"

"Well, we noticed you haven't interacted with them at all since you got here, besides earlier today. You even forged a letter from them for permission to go study in spiritualasis, no?" He looked at Harry. "Mr. Potter, do you know who I am?"

Harry shook his head.

"My name is Agent Robinson, Mr. Potter. I work for the AMSA. That's the American Magic Secret Agency. We've been keeping track of you, Mr. Potter, as we do all visitors from that sector of the world."

Harry inconspicuously rubbed his sweaty palms across his jeans.

"Are you happy there, Mr. Potter?" The agent rolled his eyes at Harry's nervous look. "Oh, relax. We can't do anything, yet. We can't charge them for neglect when you are obviously doing fine." He gestured towards Harry's clothes. "And you don't seem to have come to any harm. But you can file a complaint with us, and we can go from there." The man smiled.

Harry was amazed. He'd never had any adult express concern over the way the Dursleys treated Harry. "I don't particularly like them," Harry said frankly, "but there's no need to go to such measures! I'm fine, really!"

"Very well," business mode was turned back on. "Next on the agenda. Do you plan to return to Europe?" Harry nodded cautiously. "Then you should learn that there are specific enchantments on American soil. You cannot – as in physically _cannot_ – tell any of our secrets to any outsiders not in the know, or in the hearing range of those not in the know. You also may not perform any magic that is considered under American magic in such a way others in Europe may know about, including your magical spirit form. There are some exceptions, but we generally go by the idea that if Mother Magic lets you talk, we'll let you talk. You can look up all the how's and why's and specifics later. Capisce?"

Harry nodded.

"I'd suggest for your own safety you don't even mention you met anyone magical _in_ America, Mr. Potter." Harry looked at him confusedly. "With the current political climate, we cannot guarantee your safety, Mr. Potter. They may lock you up for treason or try to learn our secrets. There's a chance they won't do anything, but it's dangerous to even have any knowledge of magical America. You are friends with the… Weasleys, correct? And the paternal factor is employed by your government? He will be required by law to tell anything you say to the magical authorities over there."

Harry nodded hesitantly. The man's eyes softened. "I know this is difficult, Mr. Potter, we are just concerned with both your safety and ours. It may be paranoia on our part, but our histories and current political climate suggest otherwise."

Harry nodded again. "I understand, sir."

"Very good. Very good. Next item of discussion, your backstory. Unless you need help, we will let you decide what to tell your friends of your experience when you get back. If I may, Mr. Potter, I would suggest as close to the truth as possible. Makes things a little easier to keep in line," he winked.

"And finally," the man stretched in his chair, "the God-awful _paperwork._ Just need a brief statement and some basic information, Harry."

Harry finished giving his information to the agent and was portaled to the mall for his dinner. Already eight, many of the shops were either closed or mostly empty. Harry went to get some Southern-styled food.

He decided they needed pictures with their menus. He was horrified to hear of 'biscuits and gravy' and 'grits' and 'mud pie' and 'frog legs.' (Last one may be the actual thing, but it still sounded disgusting!) Harry enjoyed his fried chicken dish with cornbread, fried okra, beans, and gravy with apple pie for dessert. He knew he was making it that much harder for himself to return to Hogwarts, where there wasn't as many different choices for the meals. After the variety he was experiencing here, Harry was without any doubt he'd get bored of the cuisine while in Hogwarts.

Harry finally shuffled into bed with a full stomach and content smile. It was a good day, he decided. His magic chimed in. _Nothing like helping someone, is there?_

 _No, there's really not._

 _Just make sure to keep yourself safe when we get back to the UK, Harry. Okay? No more basilisks or dementors,_ his magic worried.

 _Not my fault, and you know it,_ Harry sleepily grumbled back. _But I agree. Nothing dangerous this year._

 _Good. Goodnight, Harry._

 _Goodnight._ And Harry, well, Harry passed out.

 **Hi guys. *Waves shyly.* Um, I'm sorry. I have several good excus-explanations! Life, and reading things outside the fandom, and and and. Yeah, nothing that will hold in a court of law. My bad?**

 **I have no clue if any of the legal stuff that happened would play out like it did, but I tried to keep it simple and plausible. Also, have you noticed that when I have a minor character, my default is common names? Guess I just don't want to put in the effort. *shrugs***

 **bob19h: I think the idea is good, and it kind of lines up with the idea I have brewing, but not exactly. Also, I (think) I said Harry's magic was adaptive, which means it knows how to deal with a wand. Maybe not comfortably, but it can get the job done. (And no idea is a bad idea, just usable, not usable, planned, and goes against plans.) And here's the next chapter.**

 **dreaddragonknight: Yeah, I'm bad about overdoing the details. Harry's got adaptive magic. (I think that's what I called it. Not gonna look it up right now.) His magic can do things outside the typical. And I've got plans for Neville, just you wait. Mwahahaha!**

 **TheAlphaJade: Yeah, that's just my tendency to focus on details shining through… Not planned at all. But glad you like it!**

 **hi: Here you go.**

 **mizzrazz: Harry learned more concepts in America, but he learned more magic at Hogwarts. Think philosophy versus chemistry. You don't need too much of philosophy to make yourself better, but chemistry requires an in-depth knowledge way beyond the basics to make an impact. (Or at least, that was the plan…) Yep! Family vibes soaking through! I just felt Harry was almost always an outsider, myself.**

 **Guest: Nope, Harry will go back, and I don't think the Higgindobbins will do anything to the Dursleys. Then again, this story is writing itself more than I'm planning it!**

 **setokayba2n: *awkwardly smiles with two thumbs up because author is awkward***

 **VizeerLord: Ideas for names that are really dumb, so suggestions are welcome! Planning on two. I haven't decided how I want to write Dumbledore, yet (bashing or just too old to do half the things we as fans expect of him), which changes how I write about the Blood Wards. I'd suspect Dumbledore's doing whatever he does during summer every year. Harry did write Ron a letter, and he can't do anything until they get back, anyway. Let's go with Harry's sleeping near the Dursleys, and that works for now…? No planned Dobby until he returns to England. Here's the next chapter!**

 **Nocte Furorem: Yeah, I agree. Then again, I like most dog breeds.**

 **And to all those who just complimented me in the reviews, my reply to you all is just a simple 'thank you!'**

 **Published: 3/14/19**

 **Review, follow, favorite, whatever suits your fancy.**


	15. XV: Last Week

**Uh, hi guys? Longtime no see? …I have no legitimate excuses. All I can say is I am a procrastinator, and while I'll put things off I don't want to do until the last minute, things I want to do are put off to the last second. I had to fight myself to get this onto a document. So, yeah… But look! Nice big pretty chapter to distract you!**

 **(Warning, I guess?) There will be gun usage in this chapter. Nothing lethal, not even being fired at people, but this is just insurance for me, here. (They're airsoft guns, if you must know.) No jumping down my throat, I am warning you.**

 **Disclaimer: Author waves a wand, invoking an incantation to gain the ownership rights to Harry Potter. Instead, an anvil falls on the author's head. Moral of the story: Author still doesn't own the Harry Potter series.**

 _Chapter Fifteen_

(Day 1)

Harry shuffled into the Higgindobbins' house, nodding and yawning at a smiling Mandy at the door. It was only another week until Harry and the Dursleys returned to England, so the younger Higgindobbins decided to have this last week be packed with various America-only experiences (according to them). Everything was meant to be a surprise for Harry, and all he knew was he had to show up today at six.

Six. In the morning. He will kill them all. After a nap.

Luckily, Harry's mastery of shadow travel meant he didn't have to wake up even earlier to make up for travel time. Still. The Dursleys never woke him up so early; they couldn't when they themselves never got up before ten.

"Welcome!" the overly preppy Mandy practically screamed. Harry wanted to snap. He did. That just required the energy to open his mouth, energy he really didn't have. He huffed doggishly back.

The rest of the Higgindobbins clan and Alex were lined up in the foyer. Chase's bedhead reassured him that he had no part in this adventure. Alex was softly snoring on Sherry's shoulder. Sherry would've looked as calm, cool, and collected as she normally did if she weren't looking at the world through dead eyes. Harry wasn't even sure she wasn't sleeping with her eyes open. Brandon was the only one of the bunch who looked like he didn't mind the early time.

Harry shuffled over to Chase, whom he heard muttering death threats under his breath. "Not even necessary... Just want to make us all miserable… Slowly and painfully… A knife. No, a spoon… -ing morning people." Harry decided not to bother him. They may be friends, but Harry knew that in Chase's sleep-addled state, everyone was an enemy.

They all shuffled into Brandon's van, waving the two parents goodbye. Or at least, Harry thinks so. It was all just a fuzzy vertigo to him.

Brandon drove much better than his cousin, Harry can attest to. Without even a minute in the car, everyone besides Brandon and Mandy were asleep to the soothing rumble of the engine.

…

The van came to a stop, jolting Harry out of his power nap. Before he could get his bearings, Mandy hoisted him out of the vehicle and clamored him over to a golf cart.

He looked to find himself in… the city?

"Welcome to Hollywood!" Mandy exclaimed.

They had brought him to a tour of Hollywood, and they would be shown around in two golf carts. Harry watched the sites go by. He thought it was pretty cool, altogether. They were even able to watch the movie magic happen at one of the sets. Nothing as impressive as real magic, but… actually… not as impressive as on the big screen, either. One actress couldn't stop laughing in her serious scene. Chase giggled something about a blooper reel, but Harry just thought they all looked silly trying to keep serious facades as the actress lost it.

They ate in a cafeteria-styled area (which came with the tour).

When they were done there, an (assumed) actor approached them. He smiled at them, and making sure their tour guide was busy, greeted them. "Hey! We've got a pretty big group of magicals here!"

They all stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Oh, don't look so surprised. I am, too! How else do you think I can pull off my stunts?" he flashed a charming grin.

"Stunts?" Sherry asked.

"Stuntman Garry, at your service," he bowed theatrically. "I'm actually about to go back on set. You guys want to come watch?"

"Heck yeah!" Alex piped up.

The group shuffled along behind him, their tour guide scrambling to keep up and find out what was happening.

They arrived in a large warehouse environment. A group of assistants showed the Higgindobbins tribe where to stand out of the way. With a jaunty wave, Garry left to get prepped. He was hooked to some rigging, and the director explained to him what scene they were shooting. With a call of "Action!" Garry was punched in the face and the rigging launched him into the wall. "Cut!"

The large group watched as the scene was replayed over and over, either from different camera angles or with them trying something new.

Overall, Harry enjoyed it much more than watching a poor woman laugh her butt off. He did have to fight off an overeager Dogo from jumping in on the action, though.

By the time they were finished, Harry thought the eventful day would be over. None of the other Higgindobbins were having it.

"Nope!" Alex decreed. "We still have more stuff to do!"

They all piled back in the van, the now more awake Higgindobbins arguing over who got shotgun. The resulting car ride was much louder than earlier this morning. They stopped for dinner at an Italian restaurant, Brandon exchanging with Harry over ravioli and lasagna embarrassing baby stories of the others. They tried to stop him, but with a flick of his wand under the table, any time one of them tried to protest, they were silenced for five minutes. They pouted and their eyes demanded retribution when they were outside the restaurant and judgmental eyes.

When they left the building and were walking across the parking lot, Mandy cried, "Retribution!" The other two Higgindobbins helped her dogpile the oldest. Alex and Harry stood to the side and giggled as a war ensued. They weren't too concerned: Any bruises could be healed quickly.

Brandon was grumbling as he drove with a bruise on his cheek. He'd get those munchkins back; he swore to Harry beside him.

They parked in a large and busy parking lot at sunset. Harry was towed to a stadium that was overly crowded and bright lights flashing. They made it through security, only to go to some of the worst seats in the stadium.

Chase shrugged at him. "Last minute. We were lucky to get tickets at all."

An opening band played on the decked-out stage. Harry thought they were alright, but they probably wouldn't make it far on their own. Then the main event came onto the stage.

They came in a burst of smoke and fire in an impressive pyrotechnics display. To Harry, they just looked like ants, but their sound blasted from the nearby speakers. Much more impressive than their openers, the rock band forced screams from their lips in excitement (or just trying to be heard over those impressive speakers). Harry jumped lightly on his toes to the beat in a semblance of a dance, following Chase's lead. He could see down the dark aisle Alex jerking around, almost whacking Sherry in the face several times.

When they stumbled from the stadium several hours later, Harry couldn't tell which of his senses were more shot. His sight pulsed from the light shows, his ears rang from the speakers, his throat was sore from all the screaming. Probably worst off was his mental-connection-thingy he had with his magic and forms. His Dogo puppy huddled in the corner from the noise, his Hellhound howled in tune with the music, and his magic jumped around his body excitedly. Harry was almost certain it tried to help the pyrotechnics become even bigger (not that it would admit it, nor could his adrenaline-fueled mind remember if he released it himself).

They all stumbled into the van, laughing from the high they were leaving. Brandon took a potion and revved the engine. They had to wait in line to leave the parking lot, but finally they were back on the open road. Harry could feel his energy high quickly tapering off in the quiet, dark car. He heard Chase snoring beside him and quiet huffs and breaths from everyone else besides Brandon. The eldest Higgindobbins smiled at him from the rearview mirror. In a quiet voice, the man whispered, "Don't worry, Harry. You can sleep it off. That's why we brought the van: Magic travel is kinda risky when you've done as much as we have."

Harry huffed quietly. "Not worried. But thanks, Brandon. This was fun."

"And the week's only beginning," the man grinned back.

With a smile, Harry drifted off into dreamland.

…

Harry awoke in the sitting room of his home in the Realm Between. He was in his hellhound form in a puppy-pile with his ancestors. He lifted his head from Ignotus's back to release a great yawn that sent his toes curling. He was curled around in Antioch's warmth, the hound's fiery fur only providing a great heat source to other hellhounds rather than pain others would experience. After basking in being surrounded by family, he slipped out from under Cadmus's head, which rested between his shoulders. Successfully leaving the dogpile without waking any of the pack elders, Harry yawned once more, his fur shifting to become spikey as he stretched his massive dark body. As his body relaxed, so too did his fur.

Harry looked around. There was no sign of Death like every other time he was there. Deciding to explore, Harry walked around the home that was to be his. The kitchen was stocked with various bones, which Harry couldn't tell if it was a joke or legitimately what his ancestors ate while they were here. Where he guessed was the dining room was only an open space. Then again, maybe the three brothers just ate their bones on the rather comfortable floor (which was covered in a soft, thick, woolen carpet he wanted to roll all over).

A library filled a great amount of the ground floor's space. Harry looked in, decided it was a Hermione paradise, and slipped back out to continue exploring.

The only other room besides the sitting room seemed to be a second almost furniture-less room, which held one chair in the corner. Unlike the dining room, the floors were a hard wood surrounding white marble. There were several closets surrounding the room, which seemed to hold various training equipment. Harry was somewhat wary about some of the equipment. He found one sword that was taller than Death itself!

Harry wandered up the stairs to the first floor. Most of these rooms seemed to be mostly bedrooms themed in neutral colors. Nothing caught his interest until he reached the last door down the hallway. Inside was not a typical bedroom. Rather, the bed was set in the floor, and was more circular in nature. No other furniture was in the room. Harry wandered onto the bed.

His claws did nothing to the thick duvet. Unlike in the dining room, he couldn't help but roll around on the soft surface. There were no pillows, he noticed.

Caught in rolling within the softness of the strange bed, Harry didn't hear anyone approach. He jumped at a bark of laughter. He looked up to see Ignotus in the doorway. Grinning as only a dog can, Ignotus followed his heir onto the bed. He sat regally, but humor danced in his eyes. Harry didn't realize until then that his face was buried sideways in the duvet. His ear and jowl were flopped over, giving him a bizarre appearance. His butt hung up in the air; his tail was still wagging.

Straightening out, he jumped (with the help of the bouncy bed) over to his so-many-greats grandfather. Hellhound Harry had just taken over, preventing any embarrassment from Human Harry. His back end went up, his tail still wagging, in the classic doggy-play pose. He jumped quickly at the elder, nipping, and jumping back. Ignotus huffed with "great reluctance," then got into his own doggy-play pose. With help from the bouncy bed, the two hellhounds chased at each other, nipping and pouncing only to dart away in a game of tag. Finally, Ignotus grabbed Harry by the scruff and pinned him. Harry surrendered, relaxing back into the bed. Ignotus released him, and Harry licked at his face in thanks.

The two sat and panted beside each other, tails wagging lazily.

Ignotus looked over at him. _"For pack,"_ he gestured at the bed.

Harry looked at the mess of blankets that were once the neatly made bed. His first thought was something along the lines of _Ewe. Pack bed?_ Then he thought back to the dogpile from before. Of course! They slept on here whenever they were in their hellhound forms as a pack! Makes more sense than his first impression, that was for sure.

Ignotus huffed in amusement, having guessed what he was thinking. He grumbled, _"Come, pup. You still haven't seen to the guests you brought earlier. I am sure they will be happy to meet with their saviour."_ His voice, while as wise-sounding as all those who have gone through much, was overall average. Then again, Harry shouldn't judge. His voice as a hellhound might be completely different than as a human.

They shuffled out of the room. Hellhound Harry tried to start another round of play, but Ignotus gave off a warning growl. Harry whined but complied.

They nosed their way out the door. Harry started wagging nervously. In the back field was the nightmare herd. He didn't see the Miniature Dragon Inferno, but it was intimidating when several demon-esque horses turn their heads to you at the same time.

The young nightmare he first met and ran away from with the other boys from camp pranced up to him, both head and tail held high. He felt a growl ripple from his chest without permission, making the horse skitter away.

Ignotus sat calmly, apparently already used to the nightmares.

Harry turned to a huffing sound. The massive nightmare he had made the deal with ambled from the heard. It stood several inches taller than the other nightmares in the herd. Its dark blue, fiery mane rippled along its neck. Unlike his younger counterpart, this nightmare's head was bowed, and it approached much more sedately.

 _"Apologies, he is not used to strangers,"_ the dark nightmare rumbled.

 _"All young ones are similar,"_ Ignotus griped back.

They both huffed in laughter at Harry's affronted face.

 _"Thank you once again for this,"_ the nightmare said.

 _"I think you will get more out of this space than I will,"_ Harry reassured, only to yelp. Ignotus had nipped his shoulder. _"Hey!"_

 _"Maybe for now,"_ Ignotus allowed, _"but soon, you will be regretting that, Brat. After your vacation, you will be here more than you will want to train."_

 _"Train?"_

He looked at me, unamused, _"Death told you you still had to learn about your place as a hellhound, did he not?"_

 _"Oh, hehe. Guess I forgot,"_ Harry replied sheepishly. Give him a break! He was still overwhelmed just from being in America!

 _"We have found an… interesting… result from being here, however,"_ the nightmare hedged.

Harry felt his ears perk up in interest.

With a roar of flames the color of his mane, the nightmare's originally dark pelt became dark scales. Spines aligned down his body. His head, while still horse-like in shape, looked more like a dragon's head than a horse's. With another roar of flames, he went back to normal.

The nightmare spoke before Harry could respond, _"The Inferno stays in the woods, but if either of us chooses, we combine into that form. Our consciousnesses combine to become something new, and our combined firepower eclipses everything ever thought of. Truly, a surprisingly fortunate turn of events compared to what your – ancestors? – say could have happened."_

Harry stared at the nightmare, _"Uh, wow."_

A huffing laugh sounded behind him. Both Cadmus and Antioch emerged from the house. _"Sees a work of magic, and all he says is 'wow'?"_ Cadmus crowed.

Antioch rolled his eyes, _"Like you were any better when you saw them."_

 _"Hey! Let me make fun of my nephew! It's-it's… family bonding! Yeah! Family bonding!"_

 _"Mhm. Really?"_

 _"Yes, and you, mister, need to learn how to… connect! Yeah! Connect! With our little nephew here before he goes and sees the big, wide world and forgets about us!"_

 _"Oh, after the training we have planned, I doubt he'd forget us,"_ Antioch smirked back. He turned to Harry, _"Don't let the old dog get to you, Pup. He's going senile."_

 _"If I'm going senile, then what makes you? Huh? You_ are _the eldest!"_

Ignotus groaned. _"Thousands of years, and I'm still the only mature one out of the three of us."_

Harry's two uncles smirked at him, then pounced on Ignotus, starting a play-fight. Harry looked over at the nightmares, as if asking what to do. He saw them staring amusedly at the fighting trio, dragons alighting around to watch the spectacle. Harry looked back at his ancestors.

With one last look back and forth, Harry shrugged. They were supposed to be teaching him how a real hellhound acts. He jumped into the pile to play-fight, as well.

…

Harry awoke to Chase shaking him awake. "Back home," he sleepily muttered. "You can stay in the guest bedroom tonight. Mom doesn't want you traveling at this time of night.

With a shuffle, they were off to bed. When Harry's head hit the pillow, he was back, wrestling with his "tutors," as Death once put it.

…

(Day 2)

Harry watched the others put many black cases into the back of the van. He turned to Sherry. "Why does this look like some kind of spy movie scene?"

Sherry laughed. "Yeah. I can see what you mean." She turned serious. "This one shouldn't be a surprise. We're going to a gun range nearby."

Harry paused and turned to look at her. "What!" he cried.

Sherry nodded. "We figured since guns are so regulated in the UK, and we know your wizarding world doesn't stay up-to-date, we decided you might want to take this chance."

"Guns? Like kill-in-one-hit? Guns? Real guns?"

Sherry waved nonchalantly. "You only get killed in one hit if you get hit in the wrong place." She turned to look at a thoroughly freaked-out Harry. "I understand your fears, Harry. But listen to me. Your magic, can you kill with it?"

"I-I guess…"

Sherry put her hands reassuringly on Harry's shoulders. "We wouldn't bring just anyone along to something like this, Harry. But you already have more discipline working with lethal weapons than most if not all no-maj teenagers. We'll make sure you're safe, don't worry." Her eyes turned hard, "And if you don't follow our instructions to the letter, we will leave, immediately. We don't need careless accidents from you, you hear?"

"But do we have to? I- "

"Harry, what are you really scared of?"

Harry's head bowed. "I-I don't- "

"You've been taught guns aren't something to jack with. Trust me, Harry, no one in this family just plays with these things. Our parents will be there. And you'll only be learning with no-maj guns. Airsoft guns, at that. They don't hurt too much if you get hit. It helps your accuracy with casting spells."

"But, I'm a wide-based wizard. How can I be accurate? And guns are different from wands."

Sherry nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, but you live in a precision-based society. And the great thing about this range is that we can use magic on the range, as well. And it's… What did my teacher once call it? I think it's called associative learning. You learn _how_ to make your magic more accurate. And it's honestly safer to use Airsoft guns than magic, which you have to focus on both _which_ spells you use as well as your accuracy. Kinda… separates… the training, as the case may be."

Harry was still wary, but he decided to trust them. The Higgindobbins had yet to steer him wrong, and he honestly wanted to be able to connect with them. If this is what they did, he would follow along for now. He could still shadow travel out of there if it was too much. He nodded.

Sherry smiled one last reassuring smile before going to help her family finish up the preparation. Her magic lightly lingered reassuringly around his shoulders before following her.

…

The gun range was in a giant metal building. They were there early, so there weren't any other cars in the parking lot.

They walked into the reception area. Mr. Higgindobbins walked over to the receptionist. "Reserved room for Higgindobbins?"

"Ah, yes," she smiled. "Right this way. Please bring your equipment with you. Do you need anything besides the range? Safety equipment? Rounds?"

Mr. Higgindobbins smiled back. "Thank you, but we should be fine."

"And everyone in your party has signed the liability agreement?"

Mr. Higgindobbins nodded. Harry looked at Chase confusedly. He didn't sign any agreement.

Chase quietly muttered, "Dad got your guardians' signatures yesterday. He said they were fine with it. And that they had a dark sense of humor." He looked at Harry suspiciously.

Harry laughed nervously. "Yeah, I guess I forgot to tell you about that…"

Chase shot one last look at Harry before turning to follow his father into the building. "No need to lie. If you don't want to tell, I just won't ask. Just say the word. And when you're ready to talk, we'll talk. Simple as that."

Harry was stunned. What did he mean, he wouldn't ask? Everyone asked. Hermione and Ron practically hounded him for any detail he'd spill. Honestly, the lack of force from Chase made Harry consider telling him about his home life before Harry shook himself out of it. No need to worry him.

The room they were given was separated by a glass wall. Sections were cut out to presumably fire through. Lines ran down the length of the other side of the room, connecting the cut-out section to targets on the other side of the room.

"Right," Mr. Higgindobbins proclaimed. "Harry, we're only using Airsoft guns, but we'll be treating them as if they were any other lethal gun. If I catch you – and that applies to all of you – playing around, not only will we immediately leave, no magic of _any_ kind will be allowed for the rest of summer that isn't strictly necessary. Do I make myself clear?"

All heads nodded seriously.

"Very well. You've been warned. Harry, I'll be teaching you basic gun safety before I hand one of these over to you. The rest of you will wait to start until this has been covered. Understand?" Another round of head nods.

Harry stood in front of Mr. Higgindobbins, who had just pulled out one of the Airsoft guns from its casing. "Firstly, this is not a toy. You respect this as the lethal item it is. You _never_ point it at anyone. I don't care if there's no rounds or your finger isn't even on the trigger. These things can malfunction as any other tool. Hold it like this," he showed Harry how to properly carry the gun. "Until you decide to fire, your finger should not go onto that trigger. It's a natural position for your finger to go, I understand. But we don't need you to accidently fire the gun. Your pointer, until you shoot, goes along the gun barrel, like this," his first finger was aligned with the gun barrel above the trigger. "Every gun is loaded. I don't care if you think it's not. That's how people get hurt. The rest of your fingers go on the gun like so." Mr. Higgindobbins continued to show him the basics (were these seriously just the _basics?_ ) of handling the gun properly. He showed Harry how to properly aim, reload, and fire. They spent more time on the safety rules than the usage of the gun, though.

"Finally, we will be wearing sound-cancelling headphones and safety lenses. Many would say we don't need them, but I personally believe better safe than sorry. Any questions? I will be watching you and helping for now, my wife will be watching everyone else, okay?"

Harry nodded hesitantly. So many safety rules. He hoped he could remember them all.

He stepped up to the second spot on the wall. Mr. Higgindobbins handed him the Airsoft gun. Harry brought the gun up, then waited for Mr. Higgindobbins to correct him.

"Your arm placement is fine," the tattooed man mused. "Put your feet a little further apart. Yeah! Like that. You have better balance that way. Now lean a little further forward. Okay, now aim and shoot."

…

Harry found he wasn't the best at shooting an Airsoft gun. Sure, it hit the target every time once he got the hang of it, but he couldn't seem to stop the slightly reflexive motion of jerking the gun up slightly at every fire, which always put his shots slightly too high.

He was grateful for the experience, and he wouldn't say no to doing this again with the Higgindobbins, but Harry doubted he'd ever invest any more interest than that. He'd just stick to magic. None of the Higgindobbins gave him grief about his decision when they asked how he liked it during the short break they had.

After their hour-long practice, they unloaded the guns and put them back into their cases. Of the Higgindobbins, only Mandy had wide-based magic, so she would be teaching and helping him.

She stepped to her place. "Okay, so what you'll want to start with since you don't have your focus with you is spread your magic in front of you." A light mist spread before her, about shoulder-width and torso-length. "You don't have a focus, so this should be easier. Next, condense so much of the magic together." The mist condensed to form several small, almost bullet-sized and shaped, forms. "This is harder. Your magic doesn't _want_ to be here. It'll naturally fight you to go back to what it was, which isn't conducive to what we're trying to accomplish." Even now, he could see the magic bullets shivering, no, trying to expand. "Now you just launch in the direction you want it to go. I'd suggest throwing your arms out at first. Helps visualize. Like so." She thrust two open palms in the direction of the target. The magic flew through the air, hitting the target – and several feet around it. "This exercise might not be the best for accuracy, but it is good for learning the basics. Make sure you concentrate to not let them explode until _after_ they hit the target. Your turn." She practically bounced out of the way.

Harry stepped up. He concentrated, and he could feel his magic escaping his pores. A light mist formed, just like Mandy's.

"Good, now force it together."

He grit his teeth. It was like trying to push a balloon to be smaller. Wherever he pushed down, somewhere else expanded. _Sorry, I'm really trying here,_ his magic apologized. _You'd think this would be easier. We do use a wand all the time._

 _No-no sweat,_ Harry reassured.

Finally, his magic was in pebble-shaped forms. They weren't nearly as clean as Mandy's, but at this rate, he'd take what he could get.

"Good, Harry. Now push."

Harry followed instructions. He even did the arm-thrust she did.

His magic dissipated before it got half-way across the range.

"What?" he panted out in disbelief.

Mandy handed him a water. "You didn't keep it contained before it hit. Try again."

Harry swallowed several mouthfuls of water before handing the bottle back to her. He went back through the steps, finding it already infinitely easier than he had before. When he thrust his arms out, he focused on the magic pebbles. They landed… around the target. Not even one hit!

Harry sat down tiredly. "Why is that so hard?" he panted.

Mandy smiled sympathetically. "You've never done it this way. Just watch. Soon, you'll be an expert."

 _More?_ his magic complained. _I don't know if we can take more._

…

They did the magic-condensing exercises for another half-hour before Mandy told him to rest. Harry sat at the bench at the back of the room. He watched as the other Higgindobbins send spells at the targets, one streamlined magic hit after another. Their effects looked like a Weasley Twin dueling match on steroids.

Mandy sat beside him. "Not what you're used to, huh?"

"I still don't understand. I can send several spells like that with my wand."

Mandy shook her head. "Maybe, but that's with a wand. It's like training wheels. It does that part of the equation for you. But this is better for your magical health. Even if your stress levels go through the roof trying to contain it properly."

"Magical health?"

"Magic is like a muscle. Think of it like push-ups. Doing it with a wand for us is like doing girl push-ups, with your knees on the ground. You can do more, but they don't do more for you. Using your magic like this is like push-ups on your knuckles. You can do less, but you become infinitely stronger than just doing girl push-ups."

Harry laughed. "I don't know if I've ever done a push-up in my life."

Mandy smiled back. "Maybe we should have you get a training session from my dad, later, then."

Harry nodded good-naturedly.

"We won't do any more of that. It could strain you too much. Tear a magical muscle, as it were. When you get back to Britain, you should do it weekly, at most. If you can find a private nook, of course. Once they're done, we can get to the fun stuff." She gestured at her family.

"Fun stuff?" Harry would admit, his interest was piqued.

Mandy nodded. "We can't do anymore of those exercises, but we're wide-based magicals. We have a lot of fun spells they," she looked at her family, "can't do as easily as we can. As soon as they stop hogging the range!" She yelled none too-subtly at her family.

"Yeah, yeah. Ten more minutes," Chase griped back.

Harry looked over at the two Higgindobbins parents. They were watching their kids on the bench a few benches over. Even though they hadn't done any practicing like the children, they looked like they were having as good of a time as their children.

Harry watched the others for the next ten minutes, jumping when an alarm rang through the room. He looked over at the source of the noise, only to see Mrs. Higgindobbins's hand in the air. "Okay, that's break! Time to let you sister and your _guest,_ " there was no subtly there, either, "get their practice time in."

The Higgindobbins shuffled away, grabbing towels to wipe the sweat off and water bottles.

Mandy jumped in excitement. "Come on! Come on! This is the best part!"

She opened a door in the side of the glass panel, bringing Harry into the range area. The floors were surprisingly padded. Harry would've expected them to be concrete like the rest of the building.

"Okay," Mandy instructed, "relax, and let your magic spread however it wants. There are no barriers to hold it back. Not even your own body."

Harry felt his magic surround him as it was wont to do when he didn't keep a tight leash on it, but it tiredly hovered around him not even two feet away.

"Good, now spin it."

"Huh?"

"Watch mine."

Harry watched (without magically-sensing) as a vortex of pure magic swirled around Mandy's form.

 _Fun!_ his magic exclaimed, before following her lead. While Mandy's magic was an ocean-blue, Harry's was tinged a brilliant green. _Wee!_

"Now!" Mandy yelled over the roar of magic, "Release!" Her magic rippled outward, creating a classic shockwave.

 _Woohoo!_ His magic called as it mimicked her.

"Nice," Mandy smiled. Harry smirked. She was right; this was the fun part!

They continued, first just letting their magic out like it wanted. Then, Mandy showed him how to do pulses, as she called them. Rather than being released in a condensed stream, rings of magic flew from them, pulsing in beats, the diameter of the circles of magic extending the further from them they were. Harry was able to make a perfect circle perfectly around the circular target in front of him. (Only the one time, but still, it counted!)

Somehow, Mandy was able to convince Harry to produce a Patronus. She explained that the magic was an intermediate between precision and wide magics.

Prongs rushed from his hands, prancing proudly around the range. He bowed regally to the _oohs_ and _ahs_ from the peanut gallery before nuzzling at Harry's hair and dissipating. Harry didn't notice, but Brandon pulled a notebook from a pocket and started sketching the magnificent beast.

They finished at lunchtime. They ate at the Higgindobbins' house to save money, according to Mr. Higgindobbins, and "We have food at home. Deal with it," from Mrs. Higgindobbins.

Leftovers and sandwiches were on the menu, not that Harry was complaining. The simple lunch didn't weigh heavily in his stomach like some of the lunches he'd had with the family.

After the lunch and a change into fresh clothes (Harry borrowing from Chase in this instance), Brandon opened a portal to their next destination.

When Harry stepped through, he found himself in front of a worn metal sign with _Mage Farms_ across the top.

"You told me about the nightmares the other day. We thought you might enjoy learning how to ride a horse," Chase explained to his confused face.

They met with the owners of the farm, who took them to the horse stables. Stable hands brought out seven tawny horses with a slight bump on their heads. "Australian Unicorns," according to one stable hand. Unlike most unicorns that had prominent horns, the horn of these unicorns ran the length of their faces. It was long, but narrow, creating an almost ridge down their faces. They didn't look sharp, but Harry had no doubt those "horns" could protect the unicorns as well as necessary.

Unlike most unicorns, the Australian Unicorn was supposedly as tolerant of males as females. Their horns held no healing properties, so they were less skittish than other species. Their temperaments were milder, making them a perfect breed to learn how to ride, according to the owner.

The stable hands showed them all how to properly approach, saddle, and mounting the horses before letting the Higgindobbins clan at it. Mrs. Higgindobbins had no trouble mounting her horse, obviously having done this at some point in her life. Mr. Higgindobbins had somehow jumped _over_ the horse, to the laughs of his family. The others all had small hang-ups, but Harry had the worst luck of them all.

The supposedly not-skittish horse shuffled away from him any time he got close, once even rearing back threateningly when he got too close. The stable hand had to help calm the horse down while also trying to determine what Harry was doing wrong.

The hellhound in the back of Harry's mind whimpered. _I think it's our smell,_ his magic agreed. _Most sane animals don't want to be around death, nor a predator at that._

Harry agreed. The horse seemed to just have a problem with _him_. Finally, against the instructions of the stable hands, Harry bowed, just like with Buckbeak this past year. The horse finally settled down and seemed to snuffle at his house. Harry could hear the other stable hands tittering worriedly before the horse bowed back to him. Harry smiled before saddling the horse and mounting it (with the help of the stunned stable hand who tried to keep the poor horse calm).

The owner of the farms got on his own horse, an "Atlantean Thoroughbred" (a beautiful greyish-blue mare with flowing mane), and slowly showed them all how to ride the unicorns. Finally, he led them in a ride around the property.

They quickly reached an apple orchard, where all the horses snagged an apple to snack on. As they ambled along, the owner chatted with the older Higgindobbins as the younger were adjusting to being on something alive. Finally, they all were somewhat used to the sway of the saddle along the unicorns' backs, in time for when they reached an open clearing, where the owner showed them how to get their horses into a gallop. Mandy, Brandon, Mr. Higgindobbins, and Harry were all quick to a race, Mandy winning.

They continued touring the property for several hours, all the humans basking in the summer sun and walking alongside their unicorns when their backsides started hurting too much.

When they were finished, both Harry and Chase had noticeable sunburns, but they were all calm from the peaceful ride.

When they got back home, Harry and Chase had to wait in the kitchen as Mrs. Higgindobbins made an Aloe Vera potion to sooth their burns.

When Harry reached his hotel bed that night, he was out like a light. If it weren't for the extreme workout in the morning, the draining warmth from the Sun would have made him pass out quickly. As it was, Harry was lucky to reach his bed before his body shut down.

…

(Day 3)

When Harry walked into the Higgindobbins' home that day, he found them all surrounding a magazine.

"Hey, Harry!" Brandon called.

"Hey, what's that?" Harry asked.

" _The No-Maj Tribune,_ " the oldest of the Higgindobbins siblings replied. "Legally, magicals can decide whether or not to be in contact with the no-maj world, but all of us must read the monthly issue to know about no-maj news and trends so we understand what's going on when we do need to interact with it. This magazine," he held up a copy, "has the largest news stories, fashion trends, popular music genres and songs, and newest technologies premiered this month."

"I wish we had that in England," Harry mused. "My friend's dad didn't even know what a rubber duck was used for."

Brandon chuckled. "Yeah, well, technically we used to be like that. What was it, forty, fifty years ago?"

Harry sat in the seat across from the man. "Really? What changed?"

Brandon mused, "I guess you could say it all started with the second world war. Magicals are U.S. citizens, so wizards were part of the draft. We found our men had to learn quickly to not arouse suspicion from their comrades. That started the rise in learning about our no-maj counterparts. Then, in the fifties and sixties, no-maj born were inspired by other civil rights activists. They started lobbying for legal marriage with no-majes and looser restrictions on our interactions with them. Now, here we are," he shrugged. "Originally, we were even stricter on staying away from no-majes than almost every other country."

Harry blinked in surprise. "Do you think English wizards could get to this point?"

Brandon shrugged. "Hard to say. We were stricter on our interactions with no-majes, but overall, we were still looser with restrictions on magic itself from the get-go. I don't know if it would translate over well or not."

Harry's musings were cut off by Mrs. Higgindobbins coming in with plates upon plates of eggs along with several stacks of toast. Harry found that while the Higgindobbins made near as much food as Mrs. Weasley, they didn't make too many different dishes in one sitting. "Dirties up less pans," Chase joked when he mentioned it once.

Over breakfast, the Higgindobbins explained what the adventure would be for today. They were going hiking in the nearby mountains, apparently.

…

Harry decided that he hated hiking. Sure, it was relaxing, but did there have to be so much… hiking involved?

His magic loved it, stretching out from the cramps it was getting from yesterday's workout by playing with the natural magics of the forest.

They stopped at an old picnic site, which had rotting wood benches and a rusted-over fire pit.

Harry sipped at his water, staring at the tree line. Did he just see movement? There it was again!

Finally, out shuffled an almost pitiful-looking creature. Hairless, its overall shape was similar to a canine. It had longer-than-average fangs, and spines running down its back. It might've been intimidating, if not for the fact it looked nearly half-starved.

"Chupacabra," Sherry breathed when she saw it.

"But what's it doing here?" Chase muttered. "They live down in Texas and New Mexico!"

The animal shuffled over to Harry, whining pitifully. He carefully stuck the back of his hand out at the urging of Mandy. The thing snuffled at his hand, then ducked under it so he was petting the top of its head. Harry carefully scratched at the beast. It was almost purring in satisfaction.

Brandon muttered, "We can't leave it here. It's too used to humans, at the very least. They're supposed to normally be skittish at best."

Harry continued his ministrations as he looked up at them all. "It hasn't had anything to eat, that's for sure. Do we have anything it'd want?"

Brandon shook his head. "They're the vampires of the animal kingdom. They drink the blood of smaller livestock. Even if we offered it some of ours, they don't like human blood."

Harry frowned. "Is there anything in the nearby area it could eat?"

Brandon sighed audibly. "Even if there was, it should've eaten them by now. Chupacabras are great natural hunters."

They all pondered the new conundrum, before Harry lightly picked up the animal from under its backend and front legs. The Chupacabra curled into his arms. "I really don't like this," Chase mused.

"Yeah, neither do I," Sherry muttered. "C'mon. We should start heading back. Maybe we can find a squirrel on the way or something."

They started walking back along the trail, the animal quietly napping in Harry's arms.

"Why did it just… approach Harry, though?" Sherry asked Brandon.

Brandon shrugged. "Any reason it saw fit. Let's just get it to a vet and hopefully get some answers."

Less than five minutes out, another Chupacabra, slightly smaller, shuffled from the bushes, followed by several tiny mini-me's that were obviously its pups. They huddled around Harry, the largest snuffling at the one in his arms. Their just-as-malnourished forms shivered in the light wind.

"I really don't like this," Mandy muttered.

Brandon hummed. "They came from the same place, right?" he asked Harry.

Harry nodded, sitting Indian style to put his cargo closer to the family.

"Then I'll take Mandy and Sherry, while Chase and Harry stay here. Watch them. We'll try to figure out where they're coming from," Brandon ordered. Harry noticed the man's hands shaking slightly, although from stress or rage he wasn't sure.

Chase settled beside him a couple feet away as his siblings shuffled into the brush. Brandon held a machete Harry hadn't noticed he'd brought (his pockets must be huge!) out, Sherry her wand, and Mandy her… hands. Who could blame her? In a fight, a wide-based wild magician is better without a focus.

Harry petted the various Chupacabra heads that forced their way under his hands. The adults' otherwise smooth skin was littered with scars, while the babies' was as smooth as a human baby's. Harry's magic tickled along their spines, making them snap playfully at it.

Harry and Chase spent twenty minutes listening for the others. Chase became more and more restless the longer the others were gone. Finally, Sherry's head popped out of the bushes.

"Hey," she whispered. As the rest of her emerged, several Chupacabra pups, small enough to be only a few days old, nestled in the pouch of her shirt. Mandy held several more pups in her arms, and Brandon led several more scarred adults into the trail way.

Chase gasped. "What?"

Mandy harshly shushed him, trying to keep her charges asleep.

Brandon petted the largest one's head. "Tell you when we get to the car. We need to move, _now._ " He conjured several baskets lined with blankets to put the pups in. Harry helped shuffle the largest pups into their own basket before Brandon picked them up.

Harry stood with the still sleeping Chupacabra in his arms. The group trekked back down the trail once more, the girls cooing at their charges.

It wasn't until they reached the halfway point before the eldest of the group started talking.

"I think it was a breeding ring," Brandon explained.

Mandy continued, "It was awful. Just a shed. They were chained up, even the babies. No food or water in sight."

"Chupacabras aren't an animal you can legally breed, anyway," Sherry cut her cousin off. "It puts too much stress on their bodies just to be in captivity, much less breed them."

"Unfortunately, these animals won't survive in the wild," Brandon said. "They've been in captivity for too long; they wouldn't know _how_ to survive."

"But, why?" Harry asked.

"Chupacabra spines are valuable in wand making. And I'm sure there's some exotic pet ring for them as well," Sherry explained.

They continued down the path, Brandon, Mandy, and Sherry explaining what they found while Harry and Chase listened in horrified silence.

When they found the van ("Thank _God_ we brought the van this time," Mandy mused), they first lifted the babies into the back before one-by-one helping each adult along with them. They lowered the back seats for the most room. The final Chupacabra was lifted into the back before finally closing the doors.

"They're scared," Brandon mused. "They should be fighting us. They shouldn't be this… tame. They were really hurt, and they must've been shuffled around a lot."

"It's so sad," Sherry whispered.

They piled into the van. Luckily, those back seats weren't being used, so they didn't have to pile on top of one another. As Brandon pulled from the space, Harry saw another van pulling into the trail parking lot. He wondered if those were the breeders.

"Let's get out of here," Mandy muttered.

"Agreed," said Brandon.

They pulled away from the parking lot, Brandon making sure to not go too fast so as to be seen as suspicious. Once they were out of sight of the other van, Brandon quickly drove fast enough to match Mandy's usual speeds (although with so much more control).

Sherry pulled out her mirror to call the magical veterinarian clinic a few towns away.

"Hello? Yes, I'm calling to tell you that we're heading your way with several Chupacabras and their pups… Uh… Let's see. For sure several lacerations and malnourishment... Ten adults and twelve pups… Yes. Uh-huh. Thank you," she hung up. "We've got some questions to answer when we get there," she reported to the rest of the van.

Over the rest of the trip, the trio in the back (Harry, Chase, and Sherry) reached behind the seats to pet the closest Chupacabras. They all slept soundly, only the ones being pet awake. Brandon and Mandy talked quietly in the front, Mandy with the map and giving directions for Brandon to go.

When they reached the clinic, they saw no other cars parked in the parking lot. They all jumped from the van. Brandon rushed into the clinic to see what they needed to do while the others carefully opened the back doors and pet the Chupacabras reassuringly to keep them calm.

Several adults in scrubs came out following Brandon to the car. Quickly and efficiently, they brought the Chupacabras into the facility. Harry followed with two pups in hand, both licking his fingers nervously. They were all deposited into a large kennel before one after another being brought into an operating room to determine what ailments they may be facing.

Two magical P.D. were in the waiting room when the kids had finished getting the Chupacabras settled. They questioned them about what they found before talking to all the kids with a serious look. "You kids were lucky you didn't meet these breeders on this trail. We'll investigate this further. And next time, leave this to the professionals."

The moment they left the room, Mandy rolled her eyes. "Leave it to the professionals. Meanwhile, if we left them there, the breeders would've found us all _and_ the ones that escaped."

"Just accept the advice for what it is," Sherry muttered.

"Yeah, yeah."

They spent several hours in the waiting room. Finally, one of the veterinarians came out from the back.

"They'll be fine," she said calmly. "We'll be taking them to a magical sanctuary. They'll be rehabilitated and, if possible, released back into the wild."

"Any clue why they approached us?" Chase asked.

The vet smiled self-depreciatively. "We can guess, but I'm afraid we'll never know."

They nodded.

They were allowed to go to the back to say goodbye to the Chupacabra pack. All the pups gave Harry "kisses," making every female in the vicinity coo, much to his mortification.

They arrived at the Higgindobbins home earlier than expected, yet smiling at helping the animals out. Hopefully, the police would find the scum that kept them in such deplorable conditions.

…

(Day 4)

Unlike the rest of the week, today was not meant to be exciting. Mandy, Brandon, and their parents all had to go to work today, so only Chase, Sherry, and Harry were home.

Sherry decided it was "baking day." Harry found his interest peaked; Chase found his stomach peaked. Harry had never cooked recreationally. He hoped it was more fun than Aunt Petunia breathing down his neck to get things perfect.

One food fight later, Harry doubted there would be much stress on perfection.

They ended up making several dishes that day: Three casseroles (green bean, sweet potato, and some kind of chicken dish), a soufflé, chicken _and_ spinach enchiladas, baked mac-n-cheese, a lasagna-esque dish with egg noodles and cream cheese filling, and several deserts (a cake, cake pops, brownies, fudge, fudge brownies – Harry even got a treacle tart!). Harry's favorite was probably the rice crispy treats, which he could "taste-test" before they were set to harden.

They left the enchiladas for dinner, but put the rest in "Everlasting Tupperware," which would prevent the food from spoiling.

Harry smiled happily as they watched television and waited for the rest of the family to come home. He still couldn't believe they finished it all in time, much less with time to spare. Sherry explained to Harry that it was common for the Higgindobbins to make food in bulk whenever they had time. Homemade food ready in moments so on busy days they wouldn't have to worry about what to make.

Mrs. Higgindobbins rushed into the room from a portal one of her employees must have made, using her own portable mirror as a phone.

"Yes, I understand that I signed up for this job. All I asked for in return is to give me a heads up. Yes, I understand the person you were going to send was sick, but that doesn't mean you couldn't have called me a couple of hours ago! No, no, it's not _too_ much trouble. Yes, yes, just let me get a notepad to write this down at." She gestured at her children to help her find a notepad and pen. Let it not be said that a Higgindobbins could not lose a hundred pens inside their house when they always put them in the same spot.

Sherry and Chase darted around to find a working pen while Harry grabbed the notepad that was set on the countertop for needs such as this.

"XXX Peachberry Drive… And they're there? Currently? Okay… And what can I expect? _Six_ older siblings? And none have had any signs? Wow, that's unusual. Guess they all need to know as well? Hm…" She looked over at the three teenagers and smirked. "Think they might be more receptive to someone their own age? My kids and their friend might be willing… I was being sarcastic! No, but they might want to ride along. Yes, I'm taking the car. How else will I get there? I'm seriously leaving now. Okay? Goodbye!"

Mrs. Higgindobbins sighed wearily. "No respect, bureaucratic idiots," she muttered to herself. She visibly shook her tiredness away and turned towards the teenagers. "Any of you want to come with?" she asked.

Chase looked warily at Harry before turning to reply to his mother. "No thanks, Mom. I think we're too tired from bake day."

Mrs. Higgindobbins chuckled. "Decided to do that today, huh? Glad one of us could get off our lazy arses and finally cook. Good job." She turned to Harry. "And thanks for helping out, Harry."

Harry smiled happily. "It was a lot of fun, Mrs. Higgindobbins."

The woman sighed once more, her shoulders dropping. "Guess I better head out, now. I hope this is an easy group."

Sherry waved her off. "You'll do fine, Mom. And we've got dinner ready for you when you're done."

With a few waves goodbye, Mrs. Higgindobbins left the house. Harry turned towards Chase. "What was all that about?" he asked.

Chase studied his fingernails intently, scratching off some hardened flour. "Mom is an importer. Officially, she introduces no-majes into the magical world."

Harry stared at his fidgeting friend. "Sounds like a fun job. Why is she doing it, though, if she already owns the Wild Side?"

Sherry huffed a laugh, "It's either that or jury duty." Harry decided not to ask. The short girl twirled a strand of dark hair around her finger. "Mom doesn't really like it, can be a real downer, you know?" Harry sometimes forgot that Sherry, while not looking like it, was an actual California girl.

He shook his head confusedly. "No, I don't know," his answer sounded snarky, even to him.

Chase snorted. It sounded painful. "In America, we tell the family about having a magical child before the kid's even a year old. Theoretically, it helps prepare the family to raise a child that can perform unexplainable things. Makes the transition into the magical world easier, as well."

"Theoretically?"

Sherry picked up the conversation again. "Plenty of families are perfectly fine about learning about the magical world. They're also often watched to make sure they don't do anything… unseemly to their children. You know, like manipulate them into repressing their magic or anything? We have to keep any Obscurials to a minimum – they almost exposed magic back in the sixties."

Chase cut in at that point. "Mom's just never lucky enough to get the nicer families. They almost always reject their kids."

Harry stilled. "What happens then?" His question rang in the quiet living room.

Sherry finally mumbled out an answer. "Just depends. Most of the time, with the guardians' signatures, the baby is taken from the family to be either adopted or put in foster care in the magical world." She smiled as if to try to lessen the lead weight in Harry's chest. "It's for the best. If we left them in those houses they'd probably be treated horribly." Her shrugging shoulders distracted from the drooping smile, "Still, it sucks all of Mom's energy out to take them."

A dark energy filled the room that the laughing telly only made more mournsome. They weren't shaken from their musings for the next hour, only being broken by the arrival of Mr. Higgindobbins.

He walked into the room, looking at the three teenagers. Quietly, he hugged each of them, even Harry, rubbing their backs as if they were ten years younger. Muttering reassurances, he comforted Harry better than any other adult figure in his life.

With a soft smile, the man quietly reminded them that this was the best option out of all those practiced and tried in the magical world. Sometimes, the best option available was also the worst to execute.

They nodded tiredly, drained from their previously morbid thoughts.

All four went to the kitchen to start setting the table and prepping the food, reheating the enchiladas in the oven so they were ready when the rest of the family trickled in from their various jobs. Harry noticed the man messing with a magic mirror in the corner.

When the other Higgindobbins siblings filed into the house, they were slightly more subdued than the usual fanfare. They got their various drinks and plates quietly to wait for the rest of the brood. Finally, they were all there besides Mrs. Higgindobbins.

Twenty minutes after Mandy got settled (the last of the lot), Mrs. Higgindobbins finally shuffled in. She held in her arms a pudgy baby with wispy hair and bright eyes. Mr. Higgindobbins was quick to grab the baby from the mother's sagging arms. He grabbed a prepped baby bottle – which Harry assumed was the reason he had been using the magic mirror – and started feeding the kid.

Mrs. Higgindobbins huffed tiredly, obviously worn down. "I finished too late. The office is closed. She'll be staying here the night. Okay?"

Agreeing mutters made their way down the table. With a small pause, the Higgindobbins and guest started eating their dinner, Mr. Higgindobbins eating bites between feeding, burping, and putting the little girl to bed, which he must've gotten out when the rest were busy getting dinner set up.

When the forks were scraping at the little sauce left on their plates, Mrs. Higgindobbins finally broke the silence that'd taken hold of them.

"Her name's Suzy," the woman began. "Roughly six months old. She seems to be a rather calm baby, although she keeps making hissing noises when she's excited. I'm hoping the doctors may be able to know what's going on. Doesn't seem to be anything negative when I checked. Her magic's healthy. She'll be a precision witch, from what I can tell. Not that babies' magic can't change as they grow." She continued, Harry realizing she was rambling to distract herself and her children.

The sky darkened as Mrs. Higgindobbins talked about the little girl, then about patients, then about whatever caught her attention. While the sun fell on a somber note, the family had laughs, and as darkness covered the horizon, the Higgindobbins family's emotions turned light.

Before Harry left the house, his magic surrounded the sleeping babe. A little smile lit up the girl's face.

His magic reengaged with him, softly muttering _I like the little pup. And think, she won't have to go through what we had to with the Dursleys. That counts for something, right?_

Harry Shadowed back to his hotel room, contemplating what his magic told him, before smiling softly. _Yeah, I guess so._

…

(Day 5)

Harry's birthday started on a more somber note than anyone had been anticipating for the past week. He quietly entered the Higgindobbins' house, long past knocking. Chase was in the entrance room, obviously waiting for him as he played games on his magic mirror.

"Hey," Harry greeted.

Chase's head jumped up, startled. "Hey, Harry. Happy birthday."

"Thank you."

Chase smiled in understanding. "She's still here. The office doesn't open until ten. Wanna meet her?"

With a nod of Harry's head, they entered the kitchen. Mandy, Alex, and Sherry were cooing over the baby while the males and mom of the family prepared breakfast. He stepped over to Mandy, who held the baby with her back resting on the girl's front. The baby cooed, interested, at the new person. Her bright eyes looked over Harry before settling on his bright green eyes.

Excited, she threw her arms up. Suzy then started hissing. The girls jumped, obviously not having seen the trait their mother warned them about until that moment. Harry jumped for a different reason.

 _"Goo,"_ the baby babble he heard was unexpected. Several other baby sounds followed, although the enthusiastic 'goo' was without-a-doubt an attention grabber, as if she demanded he listen to her.

 _"Aren't you a sweet thing?"_ he asked her. She babbled even more enthusiastically, her movements matching and almost flinging her from Mandy's arms.

Mandy handed the baby girl over to Harry, who had to learn quickly how to hold an excitedly squirming baby girl. Harry continued to speak to her while she babbled back, both children's attention completely caught by the other.

Harry felt his magic surrounding the girl, imparting an impression on her developing magic a sense of security, which was reciprocated by her own of innocence that completely won his magic over. Harry found himself sniffing at the top of her head, his spirit animals imprinting her scent into his psyche.

When he finally looked up from the girl, he noticed that everyone was sitting at the table, watching them. Mrs. Higgindobbins held a camera, recording the two of them. Harry flushed, embarrassed. He'd never had that reaction to a baby, before. In Surrey, even if new mothers let him around their babies, Harry'd always just seen them as squishy things. Sure, one day he wanted a family, but he'd always thought of older children if he'd ever thought that far, never while they were babies.

After soft chuckles of mirth, Mr. Higgindobbins took the girl to be fed another bottle of milk, the excited girl calming down for the food.

Harry ducked his head, trying to ignore the looks the family continued shooting him, only to pause. A full English breakfast sat before him. He looked up to the family, questioning. Normally, they made pancakes or eggs, burritos if they wanted to put more effort into it. None of the Higgindobbins were big breakfast eaters. The only difference was that instead of English bacon, they'd used the American version (and good thing, too, after watching Dudley and Uncle Vernon shovel it into their gobs for years, he'd even avoided it at Hogwarts). Everything smelled mouthwatering, and Harry even felt the different magics in the room brushing against the food in appreciation.

He looked up at the family in shock. They all smiled and wished Harry a happy birthday before diving in, some still smirking from the morning entertainment he'd inadvertently given them. After breakfast, the parents wrangled their kids away from the mess, saying they'd do all the dishes for the day (not that any of the kids were complaining). With Alex now holding onto Suzy, they all shuffled into the indoor greenhouse where Harry was first introduced to the family's animal forms to play for the day. There was a little play area set up for the little girl with a soft mat and several old toys obviously from the Higgindobbins teenagers' childhoods. She rolled around happily on the mat, happily playing with a stuffed unicorn that snuggled up to the little girl.

Chase looked over to Harry. "Why the Parseltongue, though?" he finally asked. "Suzy obviously liked it, but I thought you avoided it after your whole second-year debacle."

Harry tilted his head to the side. "Parseltongue? I was just…talking…to her…" he trailed off. Did he do it again? Why? He hadn't been looking at a snake this time. Harry looked over at the little cherub.

Chase sounded unconvinced. "No. Pretty sure I heard hissing. At first, I thought you were just mimicking her, at first."

Harry's head snapped back to the piercing blue eyes of his friend. "She was hissing, too?"

Chase's mouth downturned in confusion. "Yeah. Why? What did you hear?"

Both boys' eyes widened in understanding at the same time, whipping their heads back to look at the little girl. She babbled up at Alex, who played beside the little girl, on her own stomach.

"I thought it was an inherited trait," Chase breathed out. "She-she's, she was born to no-majes. How?"

Brandon stepped up to them, having heard their conversation. "To be fair," he said, in no less awe, "there's so few recorded in the world, it was only assumed it was an inherited trait." His manner turned back to the cool older brother. "Neat."

"No duh, Sherlock," Chase rolled his eyes.

They all transformed into their magical forms. Alex, Harry learned, was something called a 'serpopard.' Most of its body was a large leopard with – literally – golden fur and silver markings. Its neck then stretched, almost like a giraffe's, before ending in a leopard head. Harry couldn't tell if it was bizarre or magnificent.

 _Make sure you keep that thought to yourself,_ his magic reprimanded.

Harry doubted the girl would actually care, but he would heed his magic's warning all the same.

Harry enjoyed romping around in his hellhound form with the various kitsunes around him. They were nimbler than he was, but his bulk stopped their roughhousing from really affecting him, his spikey-furred armor also helping in this regard. Every few minutes, someone would duck out of the game to watch over Suzy, switching with whoever was watching her previously. She seemed as enamored with the animals as she was with Harry.

While Harry watched over her, he allowed the girl to climb over him and even tug at his ears. He was careful to stop her from putting one of his claws in her mouth, however.

Finally, Mrs. Higgindobbins came in to take Suzy to the office. They all whimpered and whined at her, but she argued that they couldn't take care of a baby, and it was against federal law to keep the girl longer than necessary.

Harry made sure to swipe his tongue over Suzy before she left, his magic donating to hers to better protect the girl, although the innocent magic understood this about as much as Suzy herself did. Either way, he could Shadow to her if necessary, which was the only reason he let her go.

Lunch was a gloomier affair than breakfast, and the younger generation ate quickly to go back to wrestling in the greenhouse.

After dinner, they all settled in the living room. The coffee table supported several cupcakes of various flavors. (Sherry explained no one ever agreed on cake flavor, so this was the usual dessert for birthdays for the family. Harry thought he might tear up to be thought of in the same regard.) There was a single candle waiting beside the cupcakes for Harry to choose which one he wanted. They were all topped with deep red frosting and golden sprinkles, and Harry thought that they were too pretty to eat.

He chose a simple chocolate cake for himself, and Mrs. Higgindobbins grabbed it and placed the candle on top before handing it to him. Harry felt a surge of magic as Mrs. Higgindobbins's own magic lit the candle in his hand.

With a cheerful rendition of the 'Happy Birthday' song, Harry blew out the candle. He honestly forgot to make a wish while doing so, not that it mattered. Even with the disappointment of Suzy leaving, this had probably been the best birthday he could remember.

After eating the cupcakes – Alex got some frosting on her nose, dying the tip red, to the siblings' delight – it was time for presents. Each was wrapped in the same silvery paper, but they all looked different.

Chase handed his over first. The lumpy wrapping seemed to be struggling to hold the moving weight of the innards in and not tear. When Harry ripped it open, a large quilt spilled from the paper. Harry'd forgotten about it in the excitement of the past week or so, but it was truly magnificent.

He saw the back first; his chosen dark red was overlaid with ultra-thin golden vines. They were so thin, Harry could only see the design when the light caught the threads, giving the quilt an ethereal effect. In the corner in small script was 'Moirai Textiles, LLC.'

"Mor- Mor-rye?" he asked, struggling with the pronunciation.

Chase shrugged, "To be fair, I don't think anyone knows how to pronounce it. It's their company."

With Chase's help, Harry unfolded the quilt to see what laid beneath. The outer edges of the quilt were the dark red. Rectangular white boxes were bordered thinly with black, the edges of the outer borders had gold filigree that created a stained-glass window-effect in the center of the quilt. It was a rather simple, but it was elegant in design. Harry doubted he'd like a more complex design, if her were honest. The material felt expensive beneath his fingers.

Sherry handed Harry a card that had tumbled out while they were unfolding the quilt. It said simply, "To activate: Add user's magic to quilt."

Harry's magic followed instructions before Harry'd even comprehended what he'd read. Instantly, several random white boxes filled in. One had his Hogwarts' letter in one of Hedwig's claws and his holly and phoenix feather wand in the other. Another across the quilt held a simple blood-red stone that might've been mistaken for a ruby surrounded by the silvery cloth of what was Harry's invisibility cloak. In one corner was the basilisk, rearing its head to strike, while the box beside it had a phoenix mid-burn, as if the two were facing against each other. They were the only boxes that touched another imaged box. Towards the left side was a glowing blue-silver stag – Harry's Patronus. The right side had a picture of a werewolf howling at the moon, a grim-like dog growling towards the left of the picture, and a stag looking towards the right, a rat mostly hidden in the shadows of the other animals. The final image, in the very center of the quilt, was Harry's spirit forms. His Dogo form panted happily while his hellhound, its fur spiked threateningly, stood protectively above it. They were surrounded by an ethereal mist that Harry assumed was his magic.

The brilliant images, while not even covering the entirety of the quilt, stood out from the rest. They had the softer look of being stitched into the quilt rather than true images of the events, which made the quilt look like an illustration of an epic hero rather than Harry's life.

The Higgindobbins gasped at the images. Sherry ran her finger over the basilisk. She looked at it, Harry, then the image again. She finally muttered, "I don't think I want to know." Harry shrugged to avoid the situation entirely.

"Pretty," Mandy muttered.

"Impressive," Brandon countered.

Mrs. Higgindobbins hugged Harry tightly. "We won't ask, but if you ever need to get any of this off your chest, we're always here."

Her hug turned into a group hug, all the Higgindobbins clamoring to comfort Harry, who didn't need to be comforted. However, he would admit it felt nice.

They carefully folded the quilt back up. It may have had various impervious spell, but it was still an important and impressive gift for any magical, so they would treat it with respect.

Next was Mandy's gift. Simply wrapped, it still looked like it used more tape than paper. It was a book about simple broomstick gymnastics and how the tricks could be transferred to the quidditch field. Harry flipped through it and found several 'tricks' that he'd already done in past matches, along with tips on how to do such tricks easier for maximum effect. They shared another laugh over Harry's failure at broom gymnastics previously in the summer, Mandy jokingly saying he'd better get at least these moves right if he was worth his broom.

Sherry's gift was smaller than anyone else's, about the size of a matchbox. Neatly wrapped, it didn't look like much compared to anyone else's. Harry tore into it with the same enthusiasm as the previous ones.

It was a clear, plastic box with what looked like a colorful cloth packed into it. Harry opened it to reveal two fingerless gloves that would cover both his hands and his forearms. The palms were plain, but the rest was covered in swirling designs that shifted with the movement of the cloth. Harry looked questioningly at Sherry.

Sherry blushed. "They're sleeve tattoos. When you put them on, they help you direct your magic more precisely. You have to take them off when you go to bed or else they're as dangerous as permanent magical tattoos. They're designed for adaptive wild magics like yours."

Harry smiled in surprised excitement and promptly pulled them off. The smooth material hung loosely, but after it was completely on, it formed to Harry's arms snuggly. Harry didn't need to know they were modelled after women's pantyhose. The designs flashed, then the entirety of the sleeves disappeared. Harry still could feel the material, but his eyes insisted they couldn't see anything different from his usual sleeveless arms.

"Oh, and they disappear while on," Sherry smirked.

Harry's magic rippled and in excitement rushed through the sleeves. Arcs of magical electricity crackled from Harry's fingertips.

"My magic approves," he told her happily, pulling the girl into a hug in thanks.

Alex was next. Hers had more of the white underside of the wrapping paper showing than the silvery design. When opened, he found a simple white shirt and trousers combo. She smirked proudly.

"Any shirt or pants you can think of, they transform to look similar, although they'll always be cotton. They don't like to change more than once a week, but I thought this would be easier than getting you a whole wardrobe."

Harry's eyes became saucers. This would be perfect for Hogsmeade weekends!

Alex hugged the boy to her before he could look back up from the clothes, knocking the breath out of him. She didn't let go until his face had turned into a plum shade of violet, then cheekily patted his cheek before skipping back to her seat.

Brandon was next. Unlike the others, his present was wrapped almost professionally. When Harry opened it, in a simple wood frame was an elaborate magic portrait of a massive white stag. Its silver rack was loosely strung in vines and lily flowers messily, yet artfully. Over its back was a dense mat of the same vines and flowers. It stood regally in a dense forest, shadows from the trees dappling the white pelt. Its dark eyes gleamed intelligently at Harry. Overall, the artwork was a masterpiece. Harry ran his fingers over the design, petting the magnificent beast.

Brandon interrupted his musings. "He's what's known a 'protector of the forest.' They're independent creatures, rarely seen, but highly protective of their homes and their families. Based on what you told me, I guessed that this would've been your father's spirit form. The flowers are how I included your mother." He shifted uncertainly. "I hope I wasn't presuming anything."

Harry sniffed, promising himself he wouldn't cry. He could see his father being this beautiful animal, easily. He hugged it to his chest, nodding in thanks.

"Also," Brandon hedged, "nonmagical temporary tattoos don't need guardian permission." He ducked away from the smack his mother and sister aimed at his head. "If you'd like," he continued, as if he wasn't stepping away from the irate family members, "it wouldn't be too hard to put something similar on, say, your back, tomorrow before you leave. Just can't move like the picture."

Harry nodded enthusiastically. If he'd ever wanted a tattoo, he couldn't think of a better design than what he held in his hands.

With an exchanged smile, he looked over to the parent Higgindobbins. They handed him a simple box with simple wrappings, not as impressive as Brandon's, but not the mess of Mandy's. Unwrapped, Harry met a simple silver watch. When he opened it, the watch face was a solid black with silver roman numerals and hands. It wasn't impressive at all, but Harry had to admit he liked the simplicity of the design. He put it around his wrist, marveling at how it fit.

Mrs. Higgindobbins snickered. "We wouldn't just get you a simple watch," she explained. She held out her hand for him to place his own in it. She opened the silver covering, then pressed on the bottom of it. When she took her hand away, the silver flashed, and a hologram of a magic mirror appeared in front of him, roughly head sized. She then proceeded to show him how he could turn a dial that appeared on the edge of the covering, on the opposite of the hinge that opened it. With a turn, it grew and shrunk. She then brought Harry's other hand up and showed him how he could move it directly to wherever he wanted, like a hovering mirror rather than a hologram. All their numbers and the Akhlut's had already been programed in. Chase explained that while it wasn't on a wall, the call phrase for all magic mirrors was, 'Magic mirror on the wall, I would like to make a call.' If he wanted to answer a call, he'd only have to say, 'Answer.' He hugged her and Mr. Higgindobbins harder than Alex had hugged him.

Chase then handed him a present from Akhlut, saying it came in the mail the day before. He pretended he wasn't the obvious one to tell Akhlut when Harry's birthday was. It was wrapped in simple brown paper. Inside was a large sharp tooth – almost the size of his palm – with a leather cord wrapped around it to make a necklace. It came with a card that said, "Hey, Harry! This is a shed tooth from a megalodon. No-majes think they're extinct, but they're just magical creatures who can conceal themselves. It's charmed to only be seen by those you want it to. Happy Birthday!"

Harry pulled the tooth over his head. It rested lightly over his collarbone, the enamel shining in the light.

They spent the rest of his birthday eating the rest of the cupcakes and playing games. Overall, Harry had enjoyed his birthday greatly.

When he Shadowed back home, he made sure to securely pack his presents in his luggage so he wouldn't forget them.

He and his magic wished each other a happy birthday, both happy with the day's results. Harry fell to sleep with a huge smile that night. He couldn't have asked for a better birthday.

…

(Day 6)

It turned out to be a rather simple procedure to get a temporary tattoo. Brandon had him lay front-forward on a chair in his office – also in the magical mall. He then ran a special tool (which looked like a paintbrush) over the edges of the chosen picture, then traced the outline over the chosen area to get a tattoo. Harry decided he'd do his back so the picture could be as big as possible.

The magic tingled lightly, less noticeable than the ticklish sensation of the paintbrush along his back. Finished, he looked at the image in a mirror nearby.

Harry's breath caught. Even if the image wasn't magical, it looked so realistic. He swore if he touched the image, he'd feel the fur of the stag.

Brandon explained that a permanent tattoo would hurt much worse, having to be done similarly to a no-maj tattoo. The temp would last for six months, and it could be reapplied two more times before the magic wouldn't work, becoming too faded to make out.

Chase and Harry spent the rest of the day at the local Magical History Museum. Chase enjoyed explaining to Harry the history behind each exhibit. Harry's favorite was the magic tools used by the various magical Medicine Men in different Native American tribes and the fossils of extinct magical creatures.

…

(Day 7)

Today was the day Harry left to return to England. He had a large breakfast with the Higgindobbins before they gave each other a tearful goodbye, no matter how much Harry tried to prevent it. They agreed to mirror call each other before he forced himself to Shadow back to his hotel room.

He packed up the final parts of his luggage. Once done, he had on both his watch-slash-mirror and his shark tooth necklace. His clothes – a simple blue shirt and dark-washed jeans – hung off his body more comfortably than any of Dudley's castoffs. His now lightly tanned skin gleamed healthily, the slight sunburn he'd gotten on his shoulders and the back of his neck at the beginning of the summer now having faded into a darker tan than the rest. Overall, Harry looked healthier and happier than he had at any point in his life. The only thing that ruined the image was his red-rimmed eyes and salty tear tracks he hadn't bothered to wipe off his cheeks.

He left America with the Dursleys, shoved once more into economy class as he had at the beginning of the trip, but with a much sunnier disposition than he had at the start of the trip. It wasn't long before he fell asleep on the plane; his tearful goodbye had drained him.

…

"Harry," Death greeted. "We need to talk."

Well, shite, both Harry and his magic mused.

 **Finally freaking finished!** **Never been to Hollywood. Can't you tell?**

 **If you couldn't tell, I changed 'shadow travel' to 'Shadow.' Makes me feel like I'm not using Rick Riordan's material.**

 ***Error! Error! Author has stopped functioning!* "Over one thousand follows!" *Author rebooting! Author rebooting!* Wow, thanks. I'm glad so many of you enjoy this experiment – I mean story! Yeah, because I so know what I'm doing with this story! (Author sweats nervously.)**

 **Seriously, that's such a cool accomplishment. I hope to still write well enough everyone can enjoy this story. Thank you for the support! And now, time for the lengthy reply to all the reviews from the past update! (Seriously, this one is _long._ )**

 **MytheDefender: I'm glad you like it! And I'm fine, just trying to get over chronic procrastination, but thank you for the concern!**

 **JadeSpeedster17: Glad I could explain it properly! And it's Harry; if he caught a break, there wouldn't be nearly so many fanfictions about him.**

 **Guest #1: Glad you like it so much. The maned wolf is such a bizarre but interesting animal, and it matched what I wanted to do so well. Thanks!**

 **fireflii: I'm happy you can get so into it! And we'll see what happens in England in next chapter, won't we? (Author raps nails rhythmically against desk like a cool, savvy businessman even though author has only a little more clue than readers currently.)**

 **Spirit of Sunset: I like the name. I just also want to use a pun like the Marauders' names, but you've given me some ideas. Mwuahaha…ha?**

 **.fan.p: (Weak spoiler ahead!) Next chapter, you'll see just how important it is for Harry to go back to the UK.**

 **Guest #2: I love stories with Harry being protective, personally.**

 **Guest #3 (or maybe you're #2… beats me): Glad you can enjoy it! (Author scans chapter 11 to remember what you're talking about because author is forgetful and puts more details than necessary in stories.) Okay, so I have no idea what the Moldyshorts comment is about… the comment about Voldemort crazy? I guess? Thanks anyway. I'll also assume you're the same commenter talking about Squibs, so I'm glad you could enjoy!**

 **Guest… I have no clue if you're #1, #2, #3, #4, or you all are the same person, so just go with it!: I would figure if it's entrained it would be considered a special ability like a metamorphmagus. Maybe something like aura sight?**

 **Jathagarth: Ooo, a fun one (serious, not sarcastic). Okay, to your 1): I have no actual clue what I'll be doing with Dumbledore. I don't want to make him manipulative, if only because I think it's cliché at this point. I've seen the head cannon you're talking about, but I don't know if that will match the flow of the story or not. (I seriously have no clue, though. This thing writes itself. I have no clue where some of this is coming from.) I will say he cannot know what's going on in America because how much the Americans avoid interaction with their European counterparts. To your 2): Really depends on what you mean. He will be more mindful, but in the case of his adventures, I think many of them are less his impulsiveness and more the unexpectedness of what he faces. Let's face it, any plans he makes must be trashed when he engages in the situations. I'm happy you could find some entertainment from this story!**

 **: …long wait…? You're welcome.**

 **ObsessedWithHPFanFic: You're welcome. And thanks for your support!**

 **rosalbina12: Correct! And thank you!**

 **Joey394: Here's your more. Unfortunately, I'm controlled by the procrastination monster. I beg him myself.**

 **The Crimson Killer: Thank you. Can long chapter make it up this time?**

 **theawsomest5: I'm glad you could enjoy it so much! I hope I didn't get you in any trouble! Ha!**

 **VizeerLord: Thank you. Can't tell you what happens (partially because I have no clue myself). Hm… Didn't think about adding Ripper because the fourth book didn't bring him in. (Author muses to self: Maybe an outtake…?) If I don't write it, just know I appreciate the idea. I haven't decided how he interacts with Remus and Sirius. Hm… Ideas, ideas. And here's your more!**

 **KrisB-71854: I might go into it more, or I may just ignore that plot-hole. (I'm such a bad author, thinking about ignoring a plot-hole!) I will say that while alive Sirius cannot visit the Realm Between, but I don't know if I'll go all the way to the fifth book, yet. I do like the idea, though. I'll happily sell various plot points for readers, although I do need to work on my confidence… hm… I would hope the cops want to avoid memory wiping people whenever possible. Correct in many of your assessments of Harry so far… Like the attention to his age… Harry does have a spell on him, however. Magic is just more fluid in the Americas than Europe. I don't think I'll have him testing the limits of mother magic (I think I called it that…), I just gave myself an out if I decide to later. No mental tricks. Eh, more secure when not talking about stubborn teenagers. I'm trying not to make Harry too powerful. Trying so hard… A hellhound, not just an animal. With a whole bunch of cool powers. Don't forget the cool powers! Both mentioned plot lines will probably be used, I just want to avoid directly copying the book as much as I can, we'll see how that goes. Yep, Harry cries. But he still cares for those in the UK; he won't take them for granted, either. Trying to decide AD's role in this book, so not so sure how I'll play blood wards into the story. Glad you enjoyed it so much and got so into it!**

 **Leanna0013: Thank you! I strive to be different whenever I can.**

 **bob19h: Ooo. I haven't thought that far ahead. That does sound like a fun idea, though! Maybe I'll steal some of your idea… (Author's eyebrows jump up and down creepily trying to imply that it's a great idea. Author apologizes for not being able to explain that well enough, so readers probably have a very different idea of what Author tried to imply… I'll stop typing now.)**

 **mizzrazz72: But… Plot… My little plot that I barely know for sure… Nope, not caving, not caving. Nope nope nope. Maybe in the future, but Harry really needs to go back for the little bit of plan I actually have.**

 **Davianna, ORKCHILD, cain221, lordfuzzyegg (nice name, by the way), Anna, kirsty21, MattKennedy, Creature of Grimm, geekymom, and WhiteEagle1985 (I hope I got everyone): I'm glad you all are enjoying this story! I hope I can continue to deliver (however late those deliveries might be)!**

 **I think that's the last of them… I hope I didn't miss anyone… And I think that's all I "needed" to cover in this author's note…**

 **Published: 7/14/19**

 **Review, follow (so many follows… Author still hasn't recovered…), favorite, whatever suits your fancy.**


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